The Other Ones
by Tactum Ignis
Summary: I am Number Three, but I am not The Number Three. I am a backup, one of nine sent to Earth after the originals. We're just the contingency plan. But we're all here now. And it's going to take all of us to defeat the Mogadorians.
1. Prologue

The door starts shaking. It's flimsy, young shoots of bamboo held together by twine. The shake is subtle and stops almost immediately. The two occupants of the hut lift their heads to listen, a fourteen-year-old boy and a fifty-year-old man. They lay on opposite sides of the hut. Mosquito nets lay over their hammocks.

The man lifts his net and swings his legs around silently. As he stand up, the door shakes again, and this time a crash, like a twig had broken, but in this case it sounded like the entire tree. The man picks up a sharp, curved metal knife with a glowing blue stone set in the blade and moves towards the door. He presses against it, eyes scanning the dark that surrounds them. His eyes are drawn to the flickering torches they have set up outside, but there's nothing. He turns back around and relaxes, a slight breath escaping him as he looks towards the boy. The boy slumps forward, eyes shifting to the dusty floor.

The door snaps apart behind the man, and he has scarcely enough to look back and take one stride forward before he's pulled out of the hut. The boy shakes, hearing his screams, and then launches himself across the hut, tearing down the mosquito net. He breaks down the wall, which shreds apart like a cobweb, though it's made of strong, African mahogany. The hut collapses behind him, and a huge, dark shape launches itself from the debris.

The boy sprints at a speed around 60 miles per hour through the thick jungle. His sight and hearing are beyond human. He rips through snarled vines, dodges trees, leaps small streams with a single step. He trips over a root, and turns it into a front flip, landing and striding forward in one smooth motion. Behind him, the ground shakes.

The crashing nears. The boy hears a low, intense roar. He sees a break in the jungle up ahead. When he reaches it, he sees a huge ravine, three hundred feet across and three hundred feet down, with a river at the bottom. The river's bank is covered with huge boulders. They would break him apart if he fell. His only chance is to get across the ravine. He has one chance. One chance to save his life. Even for him, or for any of the others on Earth like him, it's a near impossible leap. Going back, or going down, or trying to fight them means certain death.

There's a deafening roar behind him. They're twenty, thirty feet away. He takes five steps back and runs-and just before the edge, he takes off and starts flying across the ravine. He's in the air three or four seconds. He screams, his arms outstretched in front of him, waiting for either safety or the end. He hits the ground and tumbles forward, stopping at the base of a massive tree. He can't believe he made, that's he going to survive. Not wanting them to see him, and knowing he needs to get farther away from them, he stands. He'll have to keep running.

He turns toward the jungle. As he does, a huge hand wraps itself around his throat. He is lifted off tjhe ground. He struggles, kicks, tries to pull away, but knows it's futile, that it's over. He should have expected that they'd be on both sides, that once they found him, there would be no escape. The Mogadorian lifts him up so that he can see the boy's chest, see the amulet hanging around his neck, the amulet only he and his kind can wear. He tears it off and puts it somewhere inside the long black cloak he is wearing, and when his hand emerges it is holding the gleaming white metal sword. The boy look into the Mogadorian's deep, wide, emotionless black eyes, and he speaks.

"The Legacies live. They will find each other, and when they're ready, they're going to destroy you."

The Mogadorian laughs, a nasty, mocking laugh. It raises the sword high above it's head. The blade ignites in a silver flame as it points to the sky, as if it's coming alive, sensing its mission and grimacing in anticipation. The boy closes his eyes as it falls.

It slides across his chest with a screeching sound. The boy's eyes flash open, and he looks down. The Mogadorian is confused, searching for a wound that should be on the boy's body. The boy reacts with inhuman speed, punching the inner elbow of the loosened arm around his neck. He drops to the ground, lands on one knee, and looks up.

There are six mogadorians standing behind the one with the sword. The first two pull out blasters, aim at his head. Green lights begin to swirl in the chambers. The boy dives between the first Mogadorian's legs, grabs the leg of the one on the right, and pulls him down, putting him in a headlock in front of him. The other one shoots, and the one he's holding explodes into ash. He tastes it on his tongue, bitter. It encourages him.

He swipes out with his leg, tripping two more. He pounces forward and lands on the one with his blaster pulled out. Swings around him, grabs his hand, feels the trigger under his finger. He forces his blaster towards the Mogadorian with the sword and pulls the trigger. He falls with a snarl. The Mogadorian he's riding slams him against the tree and his breath is forced out of him. He gets his elbow around the monster's neck and tightens with all his strength until he feels bones snapping under the thin, pale skin. He puffs into ash, and the boy catches his blaster and shoots blindly one, two, three times. He's rewarded with two more puffs that indicate he's hit the mark.

There's only two more standing. The boy rushes forward, arms outstretched. One hand smacks something. The boy hears a whistling and ducks under one's arm, spinning and hitting him in the chest, open-palm, sending him flying. The other one plants his feet to stop his spinning. There's a bruise forming on his arm in the shape of a hand. He pulls out a blaster and shoots. The boy dodges to one side, slow enough that he feels the heat of the blaster on his shoulder. He steps forward, bats the blaster out of the Mogadorian's hand, and punches him between the eyes. He falls backwards, unconscious.

The boy stands still for a second, feeling the racing of his heart. Then he's dragged backward, a large wrapped around his leg. He squirms and kicks. The Mogadorian with the sword is standing, and he suspends the boy upside down, looking at him with those empty black eyes. He whips the sword, covered with silver fire, through the air. The boy swings backward and it passes through the space his neck was. The Mogadorian kicks him viciously in the side, and his foot crumples, bones snapping and splintering through the skin. He screams and drops the boy. He lands on his back and twists to avoid the sword, slicing through the air. It stabs the ground inches behind his back.

He rolls all the way onto his stomach and jumps up, dodging the first punch. He get under the Mog's arms and strikes him with an uppercut to the chin. It lifts him two feet in the air. The boy kicks him in the side, and he flies off the ravine into the river below.

The boy surveys the scene. There are four piles of ash, two unconscious Mogadorians, and a silver sword sunk into the ground. He pulls it out of the ground and sends it spinning down the ravine. With any luck, it'll find the Mogadorian.

He starts the long run around the ravine back to the hut. He pushes himself. The longer it takes for the furious Mogadorian currently floating down the ravine with a broken foot to radio in, the higher chance reinforcements will come. He reaches the hut in only 10 minutes and slows down. His Cepan's body is laying in the wreckage on top of two logs. He crouches down next to it, his expression unreadable, eyes scanning for any sign of life. He's ashamed, because he forgot about him in the fighting. His whole mind had been consumed, but now his breath is slowing down.

He pulls his gaze away and steps up, pulling away fallen bundles of grass and logs until he can see the floor. He pulls away the woven rug and tears up boards of wood until he can see a wooden chest tucked into a snug hole. He lifts it out easily and holds it under his arm.

He keeps his eyes high, focusing on the trees. If he looks at the body, he's not going to able to leave. He steps over his Cepan's body and breathes out, shuddering. He keeps self-blaming thoughts at bay and begins to run towards the village.


	2. Chapter 1

This is what I know.

One: never volunteer information. It's hard enough to keep all the identities we've had straight in my head, if I screwed up and said that we came from Hawaii when our cover story is Toronto, Canada, we'd have to move again. Hawaii was where we lived two moves ago, and my name there was Kaipo. We've never actually lived in Toronto, but we did live in Canada once.

Two: never show what I can do. I could win the national high school track and field easily, but that would be stupid. It would be the exact kind of thing to make me obvious. I could throw a baseball clear over an entire stadium. Maybe two, I've never actually tried. If I was batting, I could smash the bat apart. That's exactly what the Mogadorians are looking for. That's why I always tell people that I have asthma.

Three: if my fingers start to vanish, or I lose muscular control, or I see things that aren't there, or lasers shoot out off my toes, call Mareese immediately. He didn't actually say that last thing, but he might as well have.

That's the most recently added rule. My legacies are supposed to be coming any day now. He said this as we were on the road to Montana, endless stretches of highway with rest stops every couple hours. I've always loved the journeys between places. That's when Mareese decided our new names.

I wake up and roll out of bed at 5:32. One of the side effects of being an alien fugitive is that you have a curfew, even as a 15-year-old. Whenever I complain about it, Mareese doesn't hesitate to remind me that we could have to run at any time. My curfew is 9:30, but Mareese stays up until who know when, doing things on his laptop. Probably searching news matches from his algorithms.

I open my door and walk into the kitchen. Mareese is already up, laptop out, with a plate of eggs and an English muffin sitting on the table for me. I wash my hands and grab a fork from the silverware drawer. I pull out a chair and sit, stabbing the eggs and putting a bite in my mouth.

"What's your name?" Mareese asks while I'm eating. I push the eggs around with my tongue in my mouth and answer, "Daniel Jones."

"Where did you move from?" He asks, fixing me with his steely gray eyes. The kitchen lights shine off his bald head.

"Toronto, Canada."

"What's my job?"

"Software engineer." I drop my fork and it clatters loudly against my plate. I shake my hand. Mareese stares at me quizzically. "Static shock," I explain, picking my fork back up. It seemed like it'd been happening more and more often recently.

"If anything happens - _anything_ \- you call me." He hands me a flip phone. "Keep that on you."

"Directions?' I ask, jutting my head forward and raising my eyebrows. He looks it up, jots them down, and hands the napkin to me. I fold it and put it in my pocket. I finish eating and put my plate in the dishwasher. "Have fun." Mareese calls as I walk to the front door.

I grab my backpack from my old school. I could just draw lines in my notebooks and keep going. I start to jog to school, taking in the neighborhood. All white coats of paint. Two windows and one door type houses. They all look the same, the only distinguishing features being the wreaths and curtains hung. The house we just moved into is plain.

I leave the residences behind. I'm in the commercial sector now. There's a pizza parlor on the corner. I turn on it after a glance at the directions and the street sign. Cars speed past me and I curb my speed, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

I arrive at the school. It's a long, wide, one story building. At least, the front. There probably are basement classrooms. I have come to expect the static shock when I touch metal, so I don't flinch when my fingers are zapped opening the double doors. I walk in and lean against the front desk. The secretary looks up. "Hi, I'm a new student, can I get my schedule?" I ask.

"Sure," She responds. She snaps her bubble gum and clicks the mouse. "Name?"

"Daniel Jones."

She types for a minute and I look around. This office has two doors. One of them is closed, the other is glass. Through the frost-colored styled letters, I can see a wide hallway with lockers on both sides. There's an open door, and I can see geography posters inside.

"Smile for the camera," The secretary says in a bored voice. I turn back and aim an obviously forced smile at the blinking red light, showing too much teeth. She presses a button on the side and I hear the shutter click.

"You'll get an ID card tomorrow," She says. She pushes her wheeled chair over the printer and lifts a piece of paper off of it. I take it from her offered hand and read it. I have English 3 with a Mr. Kenbrick for first bell.

"Thanks," I say absentmindedly. I have about 15 minutes before school starts. I walk outside. There are seven smooth concrete blocks arranged in a circle in the school's yard that students lounge on, spinning coins, rolling water bottles and rubber balls, and doing homework. It is around halfway into the school year, so it makes sense that friend groups would've already formed. I know from past experience that it's not easy to make friends joining this late. I've already sat down, put my backpack between my knees, and resigned myself to another school year a loner when a basketball rolls towards me.

I pick it up and roll it between my hands, dribbling it a little. It's just slightly deflated, but still bounces pretty well. I hear a set of feet approach me and I look up. A dark-skinned boy in a tank top is holding his hands up. He nods towards the ball I'm holding. I toss it to him.

"You play?" He asks, scanning me. I've played before, with Mareese, a basketball he bought me and a hoop nailed to our garage door in Denmark, three or four years ago. It was always a good way to work up a sweat, and let my mind wander. This was before I developed the usual Garde enhancements. I couldn't do a slam dunk then. I wonder if I could now.

"No, I have asthma," I say, my standard response when I'm asked if I play any sports. The boy nods in understanding. He holds out his hand. "I'm Jesse."

"Daniel," I say, taking his hand. I'm careful not to squeeze. Jesse has black hair in a military-style buzzcut and soft features. He's tall, a couple inches taller than me. Then again, I'm only 5'7. His arms bulge, but his handshake is soft. I let go and hold up my schedule. "I'm new. You have Mr. Kenbrick for first bell?"

"Yeah," He says.

"Yo, Jesse!" Somebody on the half-court shouts. "Come on!"

He flashes a grin at me and quickly says, "Nice meeting you," before running towards the other players, dribbling the ball. I glance at my schedule again and fold it up, putting it into my pocket next to the napkin with directions. I feel the thick flip phone. The bell rings after a couple minutes, calling us all inside.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and walk to my classroom. Mr. Kenbrick is a tall, thin man with an impressive beard. I sit down in a seat next to the wall closest to the door. Mr. Kenbrick introduces me to the class and starts to talk about using rhetoric to give information to readers. I absentmindedly copy down key words in my notebook, glancing at my watch every couple of minutes. Mr. Kenbrick appears to love spouting information without student input. Pretty soon, I zone out, my pencil dangling in my hand. I stare at nothing.

The bell rings, shocking me out of my daydream. The metal wrapped around the eraser on my pencil shocks me, and I drop it. Jesse passes by my chair, chatting it up with another boy about a basketball game. I drop my stuff into my backpack, push my pencil into my pocket, and glance at my schedule. I have calculus next. I hitch my backpack onto my shoulder and walk out. If the other teachers are anything like this one, this school will be a breeze.

Calculus is one of the easiest things I've ever done. There's so few constants in my life, and math is just a set of steps, yet people act like it's hard. If you get a wrong answer, you just look at the steps and start over. I suppose that's applicable to a lot of things in life. It's familiar and comforting.

Jesse doesn't seem to think so, though. We sit next to each other, and several times he asks me for help. Most jocks are mean, but Jesse seems to be the nicest boy in this class. He chuckles at his own mistakes, corrects them on paper, and then says thanks to me. Some people might find his niceties annoying, but not me.

We have gym next. After stretches, the instructor tells us to run 15 laps. I keep pace with the slowest person in class, purposefully making my movements awkward and heavy. Jesse is one of the fastest, slightly behind a tall girl with long dark hair. My running mate is tall, but he sounds like he actually has asthma. Jesse passes me by in the blink of an eye without looking.

My running mate stops on the side and turns, hands on his knees, panting heavily, sweat soaking the neck of his T-shirt. I turn my head to see more. He's got short, stringy blonde hair, and his eyebrows are so blonde they're white, fading into his skin. I catch these details in the split second before I'm past him. I look around the gym. I'm one of the only lone runners, everybody else having at least a partner.

Jesse comes up behind me and slows his pace so his steps are even with mine. We run a lap or two together at a snail's pace. It must be agonizing for him to slow down like this, just like it is for me, even though I've never seen how fast I can really go.

"How do you like Gordmont so far?" He asks. His breath is quick and even.

"Good. People are nice." I answer vaguely.

"Kenbrick's a bore, huh?' He says rhetorically, grinning. I can hear the smile in his voice. "He hasn't called on a student once in the three years I've been here."

"How long have you been playing basketball?" I ask, separating the question in between wheezy breaths. It's automatic at this point.

"Elementary. 4th or 5th grade," He answers. "I'm in track, too."

"You're fast," I say, chuckling. I can't resist showing off a little. "You wanna race?"

"Really?" He says. "You're sure?"

"Oh, yeah," I say, grinning.

He starts to run faster and I adjust to his new speed with ease. We pass the girl Jesse was running with, and she slows down to watch us. We tear around the gym, legs pumping, arms moving like pistons. Everybody stops to watch us. The instructor has his whistle in his mouth, eyes open wide at this unexpected turn of events. I imagine how this looks: the star of the basketball team and track being matched by the short new kid on his first day. My mind flashes, and I start slowing down before I trip and half-run, half-trip into the wall. I don't want to embarrass Jesse.

I breath deeply, swallow air, lean on the wall and put my hands on my knees. Move my body up and down with my breathing. Keep the image up at all times. In reality, I feel better than I have in weeks. I'm not even winded.

Jesse's beside me immediately, a worried look on his face. "Damn, man, you alright?"

"Yeah," I say in a burst, standing up slowly. "I'm good." The other kids are losing interest, turning away.

"That was awesome!" He says, excited. "I had no idea you could run that fast!"

"Only for a minute." I respond, grinning at his reaction. "Asthma." I make a face.

"Right," He says, slightly disheartened. "You'd be amazing on track, if you weren't asthmatic."

I grin cryptically in response. "Maybe someday."

Just as I thought, the rest of the classes are ridiculously easy. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, and before I know it, I'm walking home. Our car is in the driveway. I unlock the door and drop my backpack inside. "I'm home!" I yelled, turning around to close the door. Mareese is there, holding a gun. Before I can react, he aims it at me and pulls the trigger.


	3. Chapter 2

**I know my track record with this story is less than stellar, but I do actually intend to finish it this time, and I have a storyline already in mind. I hope y'all enjoy.**

"John!" Henri shouts. "Start packing!"

A tall, towheaded boy appears at the end of the hallway. "Why did you call me that?" He asks. "And why, exactly, should I start packing?"

"We're leaving." Henri answers, shutting down his computer and putting it in the box. He started wrapping his cords up. He stops and look at the boy. "I have business in Paradise. I'll tell you on the way. I know it's sudden, but it's necessary."

The boy walks into his bedroom slowly. He starts to gather his things.

Time slows down to a crawl. I see the explosion in the barrel in slow motion, inching forward. A wad of paper shoots out, on a path towards my chest. Adrenaline surges through me. I feel my hands and arms tingling and I look down. They're sparking, blue and white energy popping and crackling. Thin twin bolts shoot out of my palms and connect with the paper, burning it to a crisp in midair. Ashes float down, and I can smell smoke.

"What the hell, Mareese?!" I shout. "Training is thing one, but shooting me?!" I growled. When I'm mad, I get words mixed up.

Mareese closes the front door and unloads the clip from the gun. "They're blanks," He says, holding them out so I can see the paper bullets. "Frankly, I'm more interested in what you did with your hands. Aren't you?"

I glance down at my hands. They're tingling, and I see a spark appear and fizz out. "What the…"

"Elecomun." Mareese says. "Manipulation and creation of electricity."

"How did you know?" I say indignantly. "If you were wrong, you would've shot me! Blanks still hurt from three feet away!"

Mareese waves the hand with the gun around. I duck. "I was sure."

I stare at him in disbelief. "Okay, more like 85% sure," He says. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed all the static shocks you've been getting."

I nod grudgingly, still a little mad about him taking that kind of chance without being absolutely sure. But I shove that down and let my excitement rise. I have my first legacy! Admittedly, I haven't done much actual controlling yet, but I already imagine myself zapping Mogadorians from a hundred feet away.

"None too soon, either," Mareese says with a dour face. I feel the two scars burned into my leg and nod in agreement. The scars, from the deaths of One and Two, that burned into all of our left legs when they were killed. The charm that links us all together. It protects the numbers after me from all harm, but I've been without that protection for more than two years.

"The rest usually arrive within two or three months." Mareese says. "For now, we'll train your elecomun." He taps my backpack. "You do homework first."

"Seriously?" I say.

Mareese starts to walk away and calls back, "Fit in, Daniel."

After I finish my homework, Mareese takes me to the backyard. Deep woods surround us on the left and back sides of the backyard and the right side is a tall fence. He sets an empty soda can on a stump and makes me stand ten feet away. "Hit the can," He instructs.

I reach out and focus on the can. I concentrate on summoning the shocks-the same feelings I had when I incinerated the paper. I shake and strain and grit my teeth, willing for something to happen. Nothing does.

"Stop." Mareese says. I drop my arm and look at the ground. It's sparsely grassed.

"Do you remember your mother?" He asks after a couple seconds.

I look at the woods. "Not really." I remember she was short, and wore glasses, and had long, flaming red hair. Not literally flaming, I'm using that as a descriptive word. But it's like someone telling you that frogs are green. I can't remember her voice, or the color of her eyes, or the smell of her hair when she visited and picked me up and twirled around with me in her arms. It doesn't help that Loric are-were-raised by their grandparents, even though I can't remember them much better.

Mareese hesitates before responding. "She was the most kind-hearted, fun-loving person I'd ever met. When she visited, she would light sparks and you would go chasing after them." It sounds like he wants to say more, but he doesn't.

I turn and look at him. "You mean…"

He nods. "She had elecomun."

I look at my hands.

He puts a hand on my shoulder. "The power's a part of you, Daniel. Like your breath. Like your senses. It's in your blood. Don't force it."

I don't say anything.

He removes the hand. "Hit the can."

I reach towards it slowly. Breathe in, breathe out. I imagine tendrils of electricity twining out of my palm and speeding towards the can, hitting it and knocking it off the stump. Breathe in. For a second nothing happens. Breathe out. Then my palm tingles and a thin bolt of electricity shoots out, knocking the can a couple inches backward. It wobbles and falls onto it's side.

I grin and Mareese grins with me. He walks to the stump and stands the can back up. "Again."

We train almost everyday like this. It takes two weeks for me to get to the point where I can knock the can into the trees, and then from 15 feet, 20, 30, it only takes me another week. It takes less and less effort every time. Mareese moves on to heavier objects. My aim's improving. It's exhilarating, the power crackling under my skin that I can bring out with a breath. Breathe in, breathe out, is my mantra during these training sessions.

We opened my chest almost two months ago. There's a pair of foot-long white metal knives that conduct my electricity whenever I'm holding them. Occasionally, Mareese takes me into the woods to practice with them. He teaches me hand-to-hand combat in a clearing we found. This new training is tiring and rigorous, but when I wash the sweat off and collapse into bed late weekend nights, I know I'm getting stronger.

At school one day, Jesse asks if I would mind tutoring him in math. We go to his apartment after school. It's on the second floor in an apartment building surrounded by half a dozen other apartment buildings. We jog upstairs and he unlocks the door.

There are pictures on the fireplace inside. There's a woman in the ones with Jesse at 5 or 6 and a grown man, but she's absent from the following ones. Jesse and I sit at the dining room table and start to go over the calculus homework. I show him my meticulously organized notes. For what I think of human education being useless in practicality for me, I find math fun.

I tutor him for an hour before I leave. There's a pizza place a couple blocks down. I walk down there after calling Mareese. It's a nice place-local, by the name. I've never heard of a chain called this. I go inside and realize it's family owned when the man behind the counter speaks to a young girl in Italian. I vaguely recognize the language from the time we lived in Milan, but it's a different dialect, so I can only guess at what they're actually saying.

He switches to English to address me. He has a thick accent.

I order a half-pepperoni, half-jalapeno medium. Mareese loves spicy food. It takes about 20 minutes for the pizza to be made by hand. I lean against the wall and watch the girl make it. I look away. There's a group of students sitting at one of the booths, talking and laughing. I recognize them from school.

I pay and pick up the pizza in a box. It's cold and the sun is setting outside. Halloween's almost here, and I can see it in the bare branches of trees I pass. A cold wind blows. A woman on the sidewalk shivers and pulls her coat tighter around her. I stop and take my hoodie out of my backpack and put it on, drawing the hoodie tight. Only my eyes and nose stick out.

I turn onto an alley between streets that takes me the short way through a long curve. I'm the only person in it. Leaves blow down it. About a third of the way down, there's a small side alley between the two buildings on either street. It's 2-3 feet wide.

"Hey," A gravelly voice stops me walking past it. I see a sharp knife glinting in the dark, and I trace the fingers gripping the handle up the veiny arm to a wide shoulder and a face shrouded by shadow. I can make out the stubble on the face by a slightly darker shade that a human wouldn't be able to distinguish.

"Be quiet and give me your wallet," The man grumbles, jabbing the knife forwards. I lower my hands slowly and put the pizza on the ground. I spread my fingers, showing him I have nothing, and he grunts, watching me beadily. I reach into my pocket and get out my wallet. I extend it to him held between two fingers. He stretches out his arm to grab it away.

I withdraw my hand and dash forward, pushing him against the wall. He regains balance swiftly and clumsily swings the knife in an arc. I duck and go toward his stomach, but I've underestimated this mugger. He knees me in the chin and I stumble back. He slams into me, knocking me to the ground. He falls on top of me before I can get up and holds the knife above my throat. I glimpse his eyes better. They're sunken and his face is pockmarked. This man is a druggie. He's actually going to kill me for 40 or 50 bucks.

I slap the knife away. The blade digs into my palm slightly, leaving a line of red. I punch him in the chest. He lands two yards away on his side, wheezing. I grab the pizza and run. He doesn't follow me.

I walk in at home, pressing my bleeding palm against the pizza box. Mareese greets me and follows me into the kitchen after I set it down. I turn my hand away from him. I debate telling him, but it doesn't matter anyway because he sees the blood as I wash my hands.

"What happened?" He says, suddenly on edge.

"A guy tried to mug me." I turn and look at Mareese. His eyes are narrowed.

"Did anyone see?" He says quietly.

A sudden panic seizes me. He's talking about leaving Pasadena. It shouldn't bother me, but I can't imagine living anywhere else. Finding another forest to train in, leaving behind my first friend.

"No one saw." I say quickly. "And who would believe a druggie, anyway?"

He grabs two paper plates. "I hope you're right, Daniel."

I did, too.


	4. Chapter 3

"Hey." Mareese knocks on my open door, leaning around the doorframe. "Get up."

I sit up, groaning. It is midnight black outside the window. "Why?"

"Trust me, you'll be interested." He says cryptically before walking away. I moan and grab my jeans from the floor. "Get your raincoat," He calls back.

His flashlight swings up and down, lighting a small strip of the path into the woods. It reflects on dew covered shrubs and the rain falling heavily. Our feet splash through trickling water. We're silent all the way, surrounded by the sound of splashing water and crickets chirping.

I stop when we get to the clearing where we've trained almost every day for the past couple months, but Mareese keeps going. He turns and gestures to me when he's at the other side. I notice a slight path behind him. He starts walking on it and I follow.

I push away a branch carefully and duck under it. I stand up straight and look around. We're at the top of the hill. It's a great view. There's our house, past the forest at the edge of the woods. That's about as far as I can see in this light.

Mareese clears his throat. I look at him. He looks upward. I follow his gaze. Dark grey storm clouds swirl and crackle in the sky, blocking the moonlight.

"I want you to pull lightning down," Mareese says. I stare at him, eyes narrowed. Then I look back up. I close my eyes and reach out with my power. There's electricity in the storm, shifting and mixing. I reach up with my hands and slowly begin to pull it down.

I open my eyes. There's a large, sparking blue ball, as tall as me, floating above Mareese and I. A smile stretches across my face.

* * *

 **Two months ago**

The boy travels towards Nairobi, the dusty jeep bumping up and down in the twilight. Two jugs of water sit on the passenger seat. On the footspace is a rectangular, curved object covered by a cloth.

The jeep wasn't the only thing the boy stole. A third jug of water, once full, now laying near the place the jeep had been parked, along with a damp, green-tinged towel. And the most appropriate clothes he could find: the head aid-worker would be missing his only suit when he woke tomorrow.

He had to leave Kenya. Preferably a different continent altogether. Europe or Australia; he was leaning more on Europe. Somewhere more densely populated. It went against his Cepan's idea of hiding, but the boy was practical: he could see that their method of hiding had marked him out all the more as he grew.

The boy stops his mind before it could think more of his Cepan. He could mourn when he was settled undercover in his new home.

He was just starting to relax, a new plan presenting itself. Something occurs to him that he had almost forgotten in the fight: the sword had glanced off his bare chest, leaving no wound. He slows the jeep and looks in the backseat. There's a hatchet there. He picks it up and slides it gently but firmly across his bare wrist. And then he lowers the hatchet and squints hard at his wrist.

There's nothing. No bleeding or even a different shade of skin. Dark like usual.

The jeep bumps along, throwing up clouds of dust behind it.

* * *

 **Present day**

One week later, a pale skinned man sits in front of a monitor. On either side of him are more pale skinned men. On the monitor is a list of links. The man drags a link into the discard directory and his eyes shift down to the next item on the list.

It's a police report. An account given by an addict found by local police who claims he was attacked by a teenager. Video footage of the altercation was provided by the landlord of the apartment building on the right side of the alley.

The pale man's eyes gleam as he watched the footage. A boy enters the alley, face obscured by a hoodie. The video ends with the boy sprinting away with inhuman speed. Jittering slightly, the pale man drags the video into the investigate directory and tags it "High Priority."

In a partially enclosed office at the end of the long room, the link pops onto the screen of another monitor. A gaunt, pale man, alone in the office, sits in front of it. He works his way down the list until he gets to the police report from Pasadena, Montana. After viewing the footage, he drags the link into the Investigate directory and tags it "Extremely High Priority."

At the Mogadorian headquarters hundreds of miles away, an alert sounds as the police report arrives. A team of analysts watch the video, unanimously agreeing on the next step. They send the report to a commander.

The commander wakes up three hours and thirty seven minutes later at the break of dawn. He reads the report and watches the video.

Within six hours, reconnaissance teams are packing into trucks heading towards Pasadena, Montana.

* * *

Several more months pass. I develop telekinesis soon after, and then a legacy Mareese calls phasing. It makes objects pass through me when I'm using it. My body turns partially transparent when I'm phasing. Mareese trains me to control phasing certain parts of my body down to my fingers and toes. It takes less concentration to make my whole body phase than it does certain body parts, but it gets easier the more I do it.

He also made me start doing runs and workouts every other day. My grades have suffered for the increased focus on my legacies and training, but I care less about this than I did before. I'd be lying if I said I didn't stop and stare at my muscles some mornings when I'm brushing my teeth. I'm easily twice as strong as I was six months ago.

Training one day in the forest, I muse aloud in between punches, "What would happen if I unphased inside someone?"

Mareese chuckles and lowers the boxing pads. I straighten and take a deep breath, shoulders raising and lowering. He says, "That's nice thinking outside the box, but it would be harmless. Your hand would just be pushed out."

Mareese also told me that I'm what's called a synergist, a very rare type of Garde. On Lorien, it was a garde with two garde parents who shared a legacy. My mom and dad both having elecumon guaranteed that I would get the same legacy. It makes my elecumon more powerful than a regular garde's elecumon.

I had issues controlling my legacies in public at first, but they grew less frequent as time went on. The static shocks I got stopped happening months ago. I still have some times when I'm worked up that the lights flicker, but I breathe in, breathe out, and it goes away.

It was one of those times, in calculus, before gym, that I was worked up. I like to think of myself of as a calm, levelheaded person usually, but I know from experience that I can get weird or impulsive when the energy of those around me is high.

The whole school was talking about the home basketball game vs Cornback Preparatory Academy, Gordmont's longtime athletic rival, that would be happening at 6 PM that night. Jesse was getting high fives in the hallways along with comment like "crush 'em!" The hype was palpable in school that day, like charged particles in a storm cloud.

Calculus was especially hard for me. The teacher just gave us 2 pages to have done by the end of class and let us be. This meant that everybody was talking, and the noise spilled out into the hallway.

I finish the pages in the first 15 minutes. I am acutely aware of the charge building under my skin. I try holding on to it, keeping it under my skin, but my palm sparks a bit and the lights flicker in response. I hold my breath, tense, but thankfully nobody noticed, and they all drone on.

Just as I start to raise my other hand in the air to request the restroom, the teacher stands up and claps in a simple pattern. Immediately everyone claps the pattern back and quiets down. She walks to the front of the class and raises her voice. "Alright, everyone, we've got some visitors today. They're conducting a biological study and-ah, here they are now-"

Two mogadorians walk into the classroom.

* * *

Two boys and one girl fled Paradise. They left behind a devastated high school and town. They left without a plan, but a goal: find the others. On their lives, find the others. Apart, they are powerful, formidable, but fragile. Together, they are unstoppable.

* * *

 **Sorry for the long wait for new chap. I'm not that good with casual writing, but I think things will pick up now. Thanks to followers Everything Art and swalker610.**


	5. Chapter 4

A memory immediately swims to the top of my mind. Seven years ago, when Mareese and I lived somewhere in the western US. I only remember that much because of the circumstances surrounding our departure.

"-from the World Health-"

I had gotten a bad cut on my ankle. The school nurse had called Mareese, although he wasn't called that then. And then the nurse had peeled off my sock and found my scar from the death of Number One. She had interpreted my reluctance to explain it as child abuse and had called CPS.

"-some hair samples-"

Mareese told me that he had passed a truckful of Mogadorians racing to the school. When he got to the school, he subdued the nurse and took me home. We were going to get the only irreplaceable thing we owned, my chest, before we left forever. But the mogs got to our apartment as we were running back to the car with my chest.

"-give them your name and keep the volume low."

Mareese had dropped the chest and picked me up. And then, as the Mogadorians began shooting and slicing with their blasters and swords, he used me as a shield. The wounds opened on the Mogadorians. All I felt was close warmth. I had gone limp in Mareese' arms then. When they were all dead, and we were surrounded by ash, he had laid me down and said in a tired voice "It's okay now."

He hadn't gotten away unscathed. A blaster had found his left arm and left a burn. That didn't stop him, while adrenaline was pounding through him, from lifting the chest into the car. He hid me under a blanket in the car, and then, as the immediate threat was now gone, he ran back inside and filled a bag with our passports and money and his hard drives with his searching algorithms. And then we drove far away.

I have to act casual. If I act in any way different than a normal high school student, like I recognize the Mogadorians, they will know immediately. All I can do is stare straight ahead and wait for them to get to me. Other students were beginning to chatter quietly.

We'll be leaving Pasadena after this for sure. This so-called "biological study" is their way of finding me. My hair is different than Jesse or Mr. Kenbricks-it's loric DNA. The one good thing is that this is a warning. I can call Mareese when this period ends and he'll pick me up. We can pack and run before they even know-

I pause my thoughts, surprised at the feeling arising in me. Run? I don't want to run. I have power now. I can kill them. I'm not protected by the charm anymore, no, but I'm not the scared little boy that went limp in Mareese' arms in the face of death. I start rationalizing my desire: if none of us fight, if we all run away from danger, we'll never find each other.

The Mogadorian reaches me, and I nonchalantly reach up to my head and tear out a couple hairs. I hand them to him. It takes all my willpower not to shock him into ash as our hands brush.

He takes my hairs and puts them in a plastic baggy with a white stripe. He puts the bag in front of me with a pen. I pick the pen up and write a fake name on the white stripe: Owen Hill Jr. It's one of half a dozen fake names that Mareese had me memorize. Owen Hill Jr has an address, an identity, a face, but all of it was made up by Mareese.

I pick up the pen and the bag and hand them to the Mogadorian. He moves to the next row of students.

As soon as the bell rings, I'm walking out the doors of the school with my backpack. I pull my phone out and type a text to Mareese: _Mogs at school. Pick me up._ I get the notification that he has read the text and I stuff the phone in my pocket. I sit down at one of the concrete squares in front of the school.

It doesn't take long for Mareese to get here. He pulls in, barely stopping, and I get in the car, tossing my backpack to my feet. He pulls out, and we're two blocks away from the school before he speaks. "Do they know?"

"No," I say. "I gave them a fake name. But they were taking hair samples."

Mareese shakes his head. "They know there's a Garde in this area. It must've been that mugging."

I look at his face, but there's no judgement there, just determination.

The words are out of my mouth before I realize it. "I want to fight."

He gives me a stern look as we're approaching a red light. "Fight?"

"I don't want to run." Now that I've said it, I have to follow through. "My legacies are here! We'll never find each other if we just run!" The words pour out in a rush.

Mareese waits for me to finish talking before he responds. "You're right. It is time. But we're not waiting for them to find out."

I look at him quizzically as the light turns green and he starts to accelerate. "You gave them a fake name. That was a smart move. But they will still know, when they analyze the DNA samples, that there was a Loric at the school. And they won't care about the humans. They'll come into the school and kill everyone to get to you when they realize there is no Owen Hills Jr."

I'm frozen in my seat. I don't know what say.

"They will do that if we run or not. They wouldn't know you were gone. Humans can't stop Mogadorians, Daniel. Only you and the others can."

He pulls into the driveway at our house. "So we need to give them a sign. Attracting both the Mogadorians and the others. We fight and then we run."

A small smile grows on my face. "What are you thinking?"

Mareese unlocks the front door and we walk in. I set my backpack down on the couch and follow him to the basement, where his computer is set up. "Do you remember the blog post three years ago?" He asks me.

I nod. Three years ago, we were in Hawaii. My name was Kaipo. I surfed there. I wasn't very good at it, for all the time I spent doing it. Mareese had homeschooled me then, with workouts and fight training.

He had his computer and algorithms set to find any possible garde activity. Keywords-garde, cepan, legacy, one, two, three, four-you get it. He excludes most news sites from his algorithm. He's explained it to me a couple times.

Three years ago, his algorithm got a hit from a comment on a blog. The comment was "Nine, now eight. Are the rest of you out there?" Mareese was in the middle of finding where the comment originated when it was deleted. Nothing ever came of it.

"I'm thinking we make a comment like that. It'll be caught in the algorithms that any Cepan have-hopefully bring them here." He nods slightly to himself. "But we need something more. We need a spectacle."

He looks at me. "We make this comment in a public place with a lot of people and then we fight there when the Mogadorians come. Videos will be all over the web. That kind of coverage, every garde in the US would know about it."

A smile spread across my face at his plan, at the idea of getting the garde together. "The mall?" I suggest.

Mareese nods, an unreadable expression on his face. "We need to do it tonight. The Mogs will have the DNA results back by tomorrow and we need to give them enough time to find the comment." He glances at me. "Pack your things. We're not coming back here after."

Tonight is far sooner than I expected. I should be sad about leaving Pasadena, but I'm thinking more about getting the garde together. It's starting, I think. It's finally starting, after these years of running and hiding. I go to my room and pack my clothes into my big suitcase. Mareese lets me take one item from every place we've lived in, and I lose myself in memories as I pack them snugly away.

We open my chest and take out my twin white knives. Mareese puts them in a laptop bag along with a single laptop and charger. He packs his hard drives, his clothes, his computer, and his monitors into the car. His bag with all our money. Underneath everything, we put my chest and cover it with a blanket. Then my suitcase.

We train one last time in the woods before we go.

Before I know it, we're driving towards the mall. I drum my fingers on my leg and alternate between staring ahead and looking out my window. It's chilly. I pull my hoodie on.

Mareese parks and we go inside with his laptop bag. Even now, at 7 or 8 in late winter, the mall is bustling. There must be thousands of people here, it's huge. Exactly the kind of crowd we want.

Mareese finds a place to sit inside an internet cafe in the mall and makes the same comment on a dozen news sites and blogs: "Garde at the mall. Come get me, you mogadorian bastards." I chuckle when I read it. He chuckles back. "A little hotheadedness will make them easier to kill."

He hands me my knives. I put one down each sleeve from my shoulder to my elbow, feeling my elecumon automatically trigger as I hold them. I force the electricity back under my skin. He makes sure that the comments are posted and then shuts his laptop and slips it back in his laptop bag.

Now it's just waiting. We walk out and stay next to the railing. I sit down at a bench while Mareese looks around and up and down. I make sure to keep my arms bent so my knives don't slip out. People walk past.

It can't be more than 20 minutes before I see the first Mog. He's pale, wearing a fedora and a trenchcoat with black clothes. He's pacing in front of the internet cafe. I stand up slowly and walk casually over to Mareese. "Mog at 6 o' clock," I say under my breath to him. He exhales, swivels around like he's seeing the stores, and says back: "Approach and covertly terminate."

I walk over like I'm going for the internet cafe. The Mog doesn't notice me until it's too late. I place my hand on the back of his neck and force my electricity under his skin. He puffs into ash and I use my telekinesis to keep it under his clothes. I slowly lower his trenchcoat onto his empty clothes and walk back to my bench.

It doesn't take long for the empty pile of clothes to be noticed. People stare at it quizzically as they walk past.

And then the next mogs come, and these aren't going to be so easily killed. They're even more on edge than the first one. They find the pile of clothes and start talking on radios.

I stand up and let the knife in my right sleeve fall so the point is at my wrist. The first mog notices me coming and begins to pull out his blaster. I let my knife fall and hold the handle. I phase as the Mog shoots and the blast goes through me, hitting the railing behind me. It shatters, falling onto the floor below. People look for the noise.

I unphase while he's still confused and stab him in the side. My knife sinks into him easily and electrocutes him. He puffs into ash and I immediately phase preemptively. The next Mog is reaching for his blasters. I spark out in an arc towards him and make him dance before exploding.

Now people are running from my electricity. It's not hard to spot the Mogadorians pushing through the panicked crowd. I send a kiosk of letter jewelry flying towards one mog and spin, sending my knife spinning through the air towards another approaching from the other side.

Mareese runs past me into the internet cafe, now empty, and I push the two blasters from the mogs I killed after him. He picks them up and starts to shoot at the Mogs from his protected position.

There's a Mogadorian rushing me. I phase as he bends down to shoulder me in the gut and he goes through me, falling on his shoulder and skidding. I turn, crouch down, and decapitate him with my other knife. Out of the corner of my eye, from an upper floor, I see people with wide mouths and eyes recording with their cell phones. Perfect.

The knife I threw clatters to the floor in a pile of ash. I roll to dodge a blast and come up hands sparking, throwing electricity towards the shooter. I hear a sizzling sound behind me and turn to see a whitish pink opaque wall of crystal extending, cutting off the blasts from that side. I stare without comprehension until a tall, redhaired girl lands in front of me.

The garde. They're here.

She sends spikes of the same crystals flying towards the Mogadorians approaching from the other side. There are already blaster shots burning through the wall of crystal. A Mogadorian smashes through the crystal wall, sending it spinning away in pieces. There are a dozen mogs on each side of us.

The ones on the left are cut and some puff into ash from the girl's crystals. I extend both of my arms towards the Mogadorians on the right and send arcs of electricity into all of them, holding them taught. I push voltage into them and then stop, immediately sending my knife zipping through the air with telekinesis while they're still feeling the aftereffects of my electrocution. It cuts quarter-wide holes in their necks and they all collapse into ash.

Mareeese walks out from the internet cafe sideways, like a crab, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He keeps up a stream of fire on the Mogadorians on the left, forcing them to retreat.

He glances upwards. I follow his gaze. The people are still recording us. "It's time to go," Mareese says. I nod in agreement and pull my knives back to my hands. The girl puts up a wall crystal before we start running to an exit.

There's a mogadorian guarding the exit. The girl creates a spike of crystal on her arm and then pulls the mog towards us, impaling him. We run out and slow down.

A creature barrels across the parking lot, as wide as two bulls and angrier than both combined. The girl bends down quickly and puts her hand on the concrete. Shiny, smooth crystal forms around her hand and spreads across the ground in seconds. The creature lets out a surprised grunt as his hooves can no longer find purchase. He slides towards us and my telekinesis stops him ten feet away. The girl walks toward him and impales his head on a sharp crystal spire. He falls into a large pile of ash.

A man jogs towards us. "That was a real dumb move," he says. He's dressed in a suit and tie, like he just stepped out of a corporation meeting. "Calling the mogadorians here?"

"It was this or a slaughter," Mareese responds. He looks at the girl. "Good to see you again, Number Eight."

"We need to keep moving," The man says. "You can call me Sandor, by the way."

"Daniel," Mareese says, gesturing to me, "Number Three. I'm Mareese."

He's driving an RV. We move our stuff to the back of it from Mareese' car, keeping a lookout for any following Mogadorians. Mareese and I bring the last of our stuff. I drop mine in the pile and then take a seat.

I look around. This place is sweet. Mareese hops in and closes the door. Sandor sits down in the driver's seat and Number Eight sits opposite of me and picks up a book that was laying on the small table there. I hear sirens in the distance.

"Uh, where exactly are we going?" I say to no one in particular. Eight looks up and smiles at me. Her red hair falls into her eyes. "Trust me, Three," she says, "if you think this is nice, you haven't seen anything yet."

I sit back and watch the world flash by outside the window. Police cars pass.


	6. Chapter 5

**Thanks to reviewer Heroeschamp. I'm really glad I'm back and writing too. Almost to 200 views, that's crazy! Thank you all! Disclaimer: a large portion of this chapter is taken from The Power of Six and the Lost Files: Five's Legacy. No copyright infringement intended. In the future, I hope to lessen the amount of material I take straight from the canon, but it's necessary for at least the next couple of chapters. Without further ado, here's the chapter!**

* * *

 **Six Months Ago**

I'm dreaming. A dark skinned boy is running through a jungle, and there's a roar behind him. He approaches a wide ravine and stops. He looks back, then jogs backward a dozen steps and barrels forward. He contracts his powerful legs right before the edge and then jumps. He's sailing through the air, but the other side of the ravine is shrouded in unseeable darkness-and now my whole dream starts to dissolve in the same darkness.

A cold wind blows over my blanket and my eyes flash open. I turn my head and one eye sinks into the pillow. My window is open. I get up and walk over to close it, shivering. As my hands rest on the top of the window, I suddenly feel how dry my mouth is. I decide to go get a drink of water.

Ethan's kitchen is nice. Spacious and brightly lit. Pots and pans of all kinds packed into cupboards. I grab an ornate glass cup and press it against the refrigerator. Water starts filling my cup.

I take a look around as I'm sipping and my eyes widen. The whole time I've been here, my key card has opened every single room except one. I've never asked Ethan about it, but the door that I've passed by hundreds of times is cracked open. I can hear Ethan's voice coming from that room. It doesn't sound like he knows I'm awake.

I set my glass down slowly and gently. It makes no sound. On tiptoe, I walk to the crack. Ethan is in a video call, back to me in a chair. I freeze, heart pounding, when I see the person he's calling.

"Person" might not be the right word. He has black hair, slicked backward. Tattoos show on the side of his head. His eyes are black orbs, and little slits of flesh stand out on the sides of his nose, like gills. I've seen that once before, in Canada.

A Mogadorian.

"There is a garde on the run in eastern Africa. We're tailing him," The Mogadorian tells Ethan. "We had signs pointing to a garde in Florida, but it seems that was your charge. What is his status?"

"He's fine," Ethan responds. He cocks his head to the side a little. "In fact, he's here now."

No, no, no. None of this is right. A gasp escapes my lips.

"I'll call you back," Ethan says. He taps a few keys and the screen goes dark.

I back away and run towards the back sliding doors. I tug on the handle, but it doesn't budge. In panic, I swipe my hand and send a chair flying at the glass. It trembles but doesn't shatter.

"Bulletproof," Ethan says from behind me.

I spin around, fists clenched. Ethan is standing there, white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's unarmed.

"Explain yourself!" I shout with a fury I didn't know I had. What has he done? What have I done?

Ethan slowly walks around, keeping his distance, and sits on the edge of the gray couch. He takes a deep breath and looks at me. "Okay. Let's be honest with each other for once."

I nod.

"I am not a thief or playboy criminal or anything like that. That was just a persona that was created for me. We have so many ties to the people that run this city—both the criminals and the politicians—that it was easy to plant me here."

"How did you even find me?" is all I can manage to sputter.

"You flew to shore last year. That sort of thing gets noticed. People talk. And we were listening."

"Who are you? You don't look like a Mog."

"Do you know about the Greeters?"

That word brings up memories of Rey talking. An image of us in Canada flashes in my mind, me tucked into bed and my Cepan telling me about our escape from Lorien. Ethan just keeps on talking.

"The Greeters were humans who met the Cêpans when you first arrived on Earth. They helped the Garde transition into life here."

It's so strange to hear these words coming out of Ethan's mouth—words I've kept hidden for so long.

"Right," I say. "So what does that have to do with you?"

"I was supposed to be one of them."

"You're a Greeter?"

"I was a part of this message board that a man named Malcolm...you know what, that part doesn't matter. What matters is that I predicted the future. I know power-know potential-when I see it. That part of me is true. And I could see that there was no way that Lorien's squad of children could ever hope to stand up to the Mogadorians. So when the Mogs came to Earth looking for you, I struck a deal with them. In exchange for my service, I will be spared. Earth's future belongs to the Mogadorians, and when they take over they'll remember that I was the one who helped them."

I'm speechless. Ethan sold out his own species to a race of genocidal monsters. Even when I was at my worst, on the sailboat with no land in site, I wouldn't have. Everything I thought I knew about Ethan is jumbled in my head. "The Mogadorians are evil!"

Ethan scoffs. "That's a childish word. You only think that because of your upbringing. Have you ever questioned why? You had this fight forced upon you, but it doesn't have to be like that."

I point a shaking hand at the sliding doors. "Unlock the doors." My voice wavers.

He shakes his head. There's a look of genuine sorrow on his face, maybe the first real expression he's ever showed me. "I'm sorry, Five."

He's never called me that before.

I hear it before I smell it: a very faint hissing in the air. I look at the ceiling and see a white vapor coming out of the vent. My world starts to fade only seconds later. The last thing I focus on is Ethan's face before my eyes close.

I wake up alone in a cell with stone walls. It's dim. My body is unnaturally heavy, muscles not working fully, but I force myself to stand up and approach the blue force field, the only side of the cell that's not stone. There's a wide corridor outside, with a tall ceiling. Walls of stone as well.

"HEY!" I yell as loud as I can. "HEY!"

Nobody answers.

* * *

 **Present Day**

We've been here for 11 years. Almost the whole time we've been on Earth. I remember when we landed, in a storm of our own creation. Steam rolled off the ship and goosebumps rose on my flesh.

We hiked from town to town, over mountains and across fields, knocking on doors that were quickly slammed in our faces. I remember sitting on a sidewalk begging for change. I remember crying instead of sleeping. I'm certain that Adeline gave away some our precious gems from Lorien for nothing more than warm meals. Perhaps she gave them all away.

Who knows what would have become of us if we hadn't found the convent. A stern looking woman I would come to know as Sister Lucia opened the heavy oak door. She squinted at Adelina, taking in her desperation, the way her shoulders drooped.

"The word of nicolas cage is my vow," Adeline told the sister in a solemn voice, bowing her head. Perhaps she learned this when we stayed in a church basement weeks before. It was the right thing to say. Sister Lucia opened up the door, and we've been here ever since.

The internet is the only source of the world outside this small town, and I search it constantly, looking for some indication that the others are still out there, that they're searching, maybe fighting. A sign that I'm not alone.

At this point, I can't say for certain that Adeline still believes what I know to be true. She's changed. Her faith in the resurgence of Lorien seems to have been replaced by faith in nicolas cage. I remember the shift in her eyes, her sudden speeches on guidance and structure if we were to survive.

The internet serves me well sometimes. In India, a year and a half ago, a boy was seen moving things with his mind before he disappeared, never seen again. In Argentina, a few months ago, a girl lifted a five-ton slab concrete to save a man. She, too, vanished.

And then, just in the last week: two notable news stories. The father-son duo in America, in Ohio, subjects of a manhunt after they demolished an entire school by themselves, killed five people, and left behind no trace other than mysterious piles of ash.

And the video from the mall in Montana, America. This one I know without a doubt to be them. There were videos going viral all over the web of the battle that happened there. A boy and a girl displaying their legacies publicly before vanishing like the others. The videos have since been removed from every online source, furthering my suspicions.

My heart races when I see the pictures of the suspects. I'm gripped with a profound desperation that I can't quite explain. I can feel it in my bones that John Smith is one of us. And I know, somehow, that I must find him.

I look away from John's Smith's familiar eyes and look at the dried flower with brown petals on the windowsill. It's not dead yet, but it's close. I bend over until my lips brush the edge of its leaves, and then I blow hot air over it. An icy feeling shoots down my spine and the small flower bursts with life. Green floods the leaves and stalk and new petals bloom, colorless at first, but a deep purple when grown. The sisters would call me _diablo_ if they saw this. But I'll never let them.

I hurry back to bed while thoughts of John Smith swim through my mind. Be safe and stay hidden, I think. We'll find each other yet.

* * *

We're on the road for two or three days. Sandor puts in the GPS a destination for a place in Chicago. Mareese takes over driving the first night while Sandor, Eight and I sleep. There's a small bed at the back of the RV and a crawl space, maybe two feet tall, above the two front seats. Sandor takes to the bed when stars are visible through the side windows and Eight climbs into the crawl space, on the thin mat laid out up there. She draws curtains closed, leaving only the back of her head visible. I can't tell if she's awake or not.

That leaves me with the couch. Sandor tosses me a thin blue fleece blanket and pillow that he pulls from a cupboard. I lay down, staring up through the skylight at the stars passing slowly overhead in the sea of dark blue. I wonder, not for the first time, if I'm seeing the star that Lorien orbits. There's something monumentally dizzying about thinking I was born so far away across the impassable vacuum of space. Thinking about Lorien brings a sense of vague yearning that makes me uncomfortable, so I stop.

The RV shakes from side to side as it trucks along. I shut my eyes for a couple minutes, but I'm restless. I twist and turn and soon fall into sleep. I have a dream.

The room in my dream is dark. It's large, in a cube shape. The only light comes from a blue electric grid in a sphere shape. There's a flat platform inside, supported by thin legs that attach to the floor through the electric sphere.

As I draw near, I get the sense that the grid should hurt me, but I pass right through it. On a bed on the platform lays a tall, thin boy with a buzz cut. As I watch, his eyes open. He sits up and looks right at me. I shiver.

"Ah, yes," he says in a voice that's deep and reverberating and does not belong to someone of his build. "The fake elders."

He stands up on bare feet and steps slowly towards me across the platform, shadows shifting across his face with each step from the dim light provided by the electricity. I'm unable to move, and a sense of unease, like sickness, grows in my stomach.

"I'm coming," He says, in the same deep voice. His neck takes on a purple shade. "And nothing will stop me."

I wake up in a cold sweat. It's deep black outside the RV. I sit up and stare out the opposite window. My shirt clings to my back and I pull it away, letting cold air flow down. I pull the blanket off with a crackle and toss it in a pile on the couch. I head to the cabin and sit in the passenger seat.

Mareese has got Indian music playing softly on the radio. I sit in the passenger seat, feeling the RV shake underneath me. I feel untouchable in this high seat as the highway races past. I shut my eyes.

After a few minutes, I feel the RV take a left turn. I open my eyes and tilt my head forward. We're driving down a wide lane with fast food places and breakfast diners as far as I can see. Mareese takes another left turn into a Starbucks parking lot and parks. "Want anything?" he asks.

"Sweet iced tea," I answer. He grabs his wallet off the dash and leaves the RV.

If I'm being honest, I think to myself as I watch Mareese order and the tired barista make the drinks, I'm not entirely content here. Everything happened so quickly, I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone. They'll think I'll just have upped and left. It's not like this is the first time we've done this, but this time is different. I can't help but think about Jesse and how he'll do in math without me. We weren't even friends, exactly, but he was the first person other than Mareese that I had any kind of relationship with.

Mareese returns and hands me my tea. He's got himself two large cups of coffee. He fills up the tank at a gas station before returning to the highway. I take short sips through my straw until there are only ice cubes at the bottom of the cup. I toss it in the trash can and return to the couch, laying with my feet under the blanket. I kick it off, turn my head towards the couch, and close my eyes. I'm immediately drawn into a dreamless sleep.

Eight shakes me awake in the morning. The RV isn't moving, and I initially think we've broken down or that the Mogs have caught up to us, but Eight says "We're stopping for breakfast."

I exit the RV. After the hours inside, the world outside seems almost like a dream. My back is stiff and limbs swing as we walk into the McDonalds. It's mostly empty. Mareese orders two egg mcmuffins for me and a big mac for himself. We all sit together at a table.

"So what's the story?" Mareese asks Sandor in between bites. I look at Sandor, next to me, out of the corner of my eye, waiting for his response. I'm curious to know too, but I didn't know how to breach the subject.

Sandor chews and swallows the current bite of his burger. He thinks for a moment and responds, "To start, you should know Cassie-Eight-isn't my original charge."

Mareese and I both look at Eight, and she nods, setting down her own burger to listen to Sandor.

"I found Cassie when I was investigating a lead after my original charge. It was an alien conspiracy newsletter office in Ohio that had mentioned Mogadorians in one of their issues. Cassie was investigating them too."

He pauses and takes a sip of his water.

"I probably would have been captured if she hadn't been there to protect me. Our cover there was blown, so we left town before more Mogadorians arrived. Then, of course-" Sandor turns and looks at me. "The mugging video got caught in my search algorithms. So I bought the RV for a mobile base and we were living in Pasadena since."

Mareese is silent for a minute as he absorbs what Sandor has said. "What happened to your original charge?"

Sandor looks down at the table, displaying the first emotion I've seen from him: shame, though he tries to hide it. I unconsciously stop eating, my hand holding the egg McMuffin sinking gradually. "I believe he was captured by the Mogs around 6 months ago. I've been looking for him ever since."

Mareese must sense that there's a further story there, but he doesn't press. He's probably too tired after driving all night. We wrap up our food and go back to the RV. Sandor starts to drive and Mareese immediately goes to the bed in the back, grabbing a pillow from the cabinet and sleeping sideways across the end of the bed. He's out like a light.

Eight-Cassie-grabs a chess set from a stack of board games in another cabinet, sets it up on the small table, and asks me if I want to play. I'm familiar with the game, so I nod and sit across from her. Mareese and I would play this on occasion. Cassie makes the first move as Sandor pulls back onto the highway.


	7. Chapter 6

**Thank you all so much for the view count! It passed 230! For any interested, I imagine Daniel's white blades to look like angel blades from Supernatural.**

* * *

"So, you can create...crystals?" I ask Cassie after a chess move.

She makes her move and responds, "Yeah, but that's only one part of my power."

"What do you mean?" I ask, thinking about my next move.

She pulls up her left sleeve. Between her elbow and her shoulder, there's a tight black elastic band around her arm maybe three inches long. There are slight bumps around the middle. She pulls the elastic band off her arm and lays it flat on the table. In pocket style openings with a circle of elastic around each leaving a couple centimeters-wide opening, there are three or four curved flat discs of various color. I recognize the whitish-pink crystal.

"I create what I touch," She explains, pulling a shiny silver disc from it's elastic pocket. She holds it in her right palm and concentrates. A silver glow comes from her left palm and the silver light collects into a ball above her palm. It reminds me of when I make balls of electricity.

The glow fades and a perfectly smooth silver ball the size of my fist drops into her palm. She tosses it to me and I catch it. I'm not expecting what happens next. Sparks erupt from my skin and dance around the ball. I drop it in my lap.

"That's never happened before," Cassie says, craning her neck to look at the ball. I make a sudden realization. "This metal is from Lorien?"

She makes a surprised sound. "How'd you know?"

"My knives do the same," I say. I put the ball on the couch and crouch next to the pile of Mareese and I's stuff. Cassie turns in her seat to look. I pull my two foot-long white blades out of his laptop bag where they've been and hold them up. Blue sparks travel up to the tip.

"They're all from Lorien," Cassie says, looking back at the table where her elastic band lies. "This whole thing was in my chest."

"Woah," I say out loud. "This means the Elders knew what our legacies would be."

"Well, yeah," Cassie says. "Didn't your knives prove that?"

"I thought they were in my chest because I was a synergist."

"Synergist?" Cassie asks. The chess game lays forgotten on the table.

"My parents both had elecomun. That guaranteed that I would get it."

"Huh," Cassie says. "Do you know what everything in your chest does?"

I think back to the few times Mareese and I opened my chest, the short glances I got inside. "Only a couple items," I say. "My daggers. A red crystal." My inheritance is comprised of about a dozen items.

Cassie gets an excited look on her face. "My Cepan told me that the red crystal could be used to talk with the other garde. I have the macrocosm-the receiving half-in my chest at the penthouse!"

"That's awesome!" I respond. Does this mean we'll be able to talk to the other garde when we get to Chicago? "Wait-what do you mean, penthouse?"

She grins at me and leans back against the side of the RV, pulling her finger across her lips. Even as I get the message, I'm struck by how pretty she is with her smile. I grin back.

We play chess a couple more times on the journey. Once we're what Mareese and Sandor deem a far enough distance away from Pasadena, we park the RV at night and all sleep. It only takes two or three days to reach Chicago, but it seems like so much longer.

I looked at the GPS and looked up the end location-a skyscraper called the John Hancock center. When we arrive in Chicago at late evening and park in the underground garage of the John Hancock building, Mareese stops and I stop next to him as Sandor and Cassie approach the elevator. Sandor looks back. "Is there a problem?"

"This is your home?" Mareese asks incredulously.

"Uh, yeah," Sandor says. "What did you think? I put it in the GPS."

"I thought it was a general location in Chicago," Mareese says. "I thought you'd have a hole in the wall someplace normal around here. Not one of the tallest buildings in the United States."

"My garde and I were here for five years without any mogadorians catching our scent." Sandor responds. "It's safe. It's better than safe."

Sandor's words intrigue me, but I agree with Mareese. The John Hancock center is way too exposed, too known. We wouldn't be able to escape covertly if Mogadorians attacked.

Cassie beckons me forward. It tugs on my mind, but I resist, my eyes on Mareese. Grudgingly, Mareese walks towards the elevator. I heft my chest onto my shoulder with one arm and lug everything else of ours on my arm behind my back.

The elevator starts to rise and I raise my eyebrow as the number on the small screen goes from the 20s to the 30s to the 40s all the way up to 99. Mareese' mouth hangs slightly open and Sandor slaps him on the back as the doors open. "Welcome to the penthouse," Sandor says, opening his arms theatrically before walking elsewhere.

Mareese steps off the elevator and steps to the side, letting us off. He looks around the penthouse, the flabbergasted expression still on his face. All my attention, however, is on the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I put down my things and approach the windows, looking out. The sun is setting on the horizon. Pink and orange reflect off Lake Michigan, and it seems like the whole of Chicago is spread out below us in the miniature grid of buildings and streets. I imagine my expression must look similar to Mareese' right now. It's how I feel.

Cassie stands next to me. If not for this view, I'd be distracted by her closeness. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I nod without looking away.

She's silent, but I can tell she's preparing to talk in her head. I wait. "My Cepan would take pictures of the sunset, wherever we went. Every day. She had a picture book of them all."

She falls silent, and I glance at her for a second. I see her eye welling up, but she blinks and it's gone. She looks down at Chicago.

It's at that moment that I realize I probably really need a shower. Sandor gives me a towel, and I spend almost an hour stretched out in there, letting the steaming water rain in streams down my face and my chest. It's so refreshing after days in the same clothes. At one point, my eyes fall close, and I start awake after seemingly a blink but what was probably five minutes. I know I have to get out now before I fall asleep for good, so I pull myself up slowly and turn off the shower.

Sandor points me to a room with an actual bed to sleep in, and after eating some frozen pizza he heats up, I collapse in bed, my suitcase and chest on the floor in the same room, and immediately fall into sleep after pulling the blankets over me.

When I wake up, I pull on clean clothes and brush my teeth in the bathroom at the end of the hall before walking out into the living room/kitchen area. Now looking around the penthouse, it's clear to me that Sandor's extravagant tastes extend beyond the RV.

After a quick breakfast, Sandor invites me into a place he calls the Lecture Hall. Cassie and Mareese stand near the door, watching me. Sandor sits behind a control panel and presses a couple buttons. "Feel free to destroy them," He calls to me, grinning. I'm not sure what he is talking about until panels open on the wall and half a dozen basketball-sized and shaped robots fly out, hovering in the air. They zip towards me quickly.

I dive and roll under them, but I've underestimated the technology. They turn around, barely losing momentum, and come at me again. I immediately realize I'm not going to be able to run away. I don't see any sharp protrusions on the robots, so I should be able to bat it away, but I realize too late that they wouldn't be dive-bombing me if they didn't have a way of harming me. I'm already swinging at it.

The robot extends a sparking stick out of its midsection as my fist swings towards it and it sends voltage up my arm as my fist connects. Sandor laughs unabashedly, thinking it affected me, and I grin.

I grab the robot with both hands. It keeps sparking me, but all it does is give me more power. I throw it at the floor and it smashes apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sandor with his mouth open, staring at me. I swing around and reach both hands upward towards the robots hovering above me. They're powered by electric batteries, and I pull all of the electricity out of them. They drop and make hollow clunking noises when they hit the floor. I pull the electricity into my body.

Cassie steps in, holding a hand out to Sandor. He raises his up slowly and wheels away from the control panel. "My turn," She says, metal growing from her hand. It becomes a smooth staff around five feet long. She chuckles at the look on my face and walks towards me, spinning the staff with ease. I don't move quick enough and she wacks my knee, sending me to the floor.

I fall forward and she grabs my shoulder, tossing me onto my back. She straddles my chest, keeping me from getting up. I squirm my legs, but it's obvious she's stronger than me. And I thought I was so strong. She playfully pinches my cheek and wiggles it.

I phase and she falls through me, smacking her shoulder on the metal floor. It takes me a couple seconds to get up and she's already whizzing the metal staff at me. I grab it, wincing at the pain in my palms. It conducts my electricity, just like I thought it would. It's the metal from Lorien.

She yelps and lets go. I get a better grip and swing the staff at her. She rolls backwards and stands up. I toss the staff away, running at her. She falls onto her back as I approach and plants her foot on my stomach as I come closer. She grabs my shoulders and yanks them down and past her head, at the same time moving my lower body up and over. She rolls with it and lands on my body. The end result is me on my back again and her straddling my stomach. She laughs, tossing her hair back. "You're not very good at this, are you?" She asks.

"I don't want to hurt you," I retort, although with the experience of her fighting I have now, I'm now sure I could defeat her even if I wanted to.

"Don't worry, you won't," She responds, standing up.

We open her chest the first day after training and she gets a drawstring of glass marbles from it. She tosses the marbles in the air and they spin around before coming together into a large globe of Earth. There are two glowing blue dots on it. One in Chicago and one in South America. "Are those dots us?" I ask, walking around it.

She doesn't look away from it. "I'd guess so, but there are only two there. That doesn't make sense. There are two of us in Chicago, so why is there only one dot?"

Neither of us knows, and neither do Mareese or Sandor.

We train against each other every day. She shows me the book she was reading. She explained it, but I think it's one of those books you have to read to understand because anything else wouldn't give it justice. I honestly don't remember exactly what she said about it. Some hobbits and a wizard, Gandalf, trying to find some jewelry or something. I'm not much for reading.

When I get bored, I do multiplication with many digit numbers or long divisions with big numbers on paper. The order and repetition of it calms me. I tried to show Cassie, but she didn't really get it. It makes sense, she was never taught this stuff. All combat training for her.

I hold the red crystal in my fist and speak, and it comes back through the globe of earth from her chest. No other voices come through, though. We're trying it everyday. The dots are different every time we look at the globe, the only constant being the Chicago dot.

When the sun is high in the sky, warming me and the ground even with the cold spray of Lake Michigan, I walk around. The skyscrapers are overwhelming, and I spend most of my time gawking up at them. Mareese never took me to a big city before. I buy some food from vendors. It's the first time I've had a hot dog with more than ketchup and mustard. It's an overload of flavor and makes me want to throw up. The first time I had it, Cassie was with me, and we spent the next 10 minutes on a bench, me bent over retching, her laughing her ass off and patting me on the back.

Most times, Cassie comes with me on my adventures in Chicago. We went to the Willis Tower skydeck and took a picture together on the glass rooms. I held her hand while we were on it-which she practically broke with how much she squeezed it. She didn't let go of my hand after we left the glass room. It made me blush, and she laughed. We also took a picture on the wall with the mural of Chicago's cityline. We acted like we were smashing buildings in the mural.

Mareese makes us stop going out after the first two weeks, telling us the mogs will be looking for us everywhere. It makes me feel guilty and stupid for not thinking. He's right. We take to watching TV shows and playing video games to pass the time when we're not training, eating, or trying to communicate with the other garde. Sandor makes an occasional appearance, but I think he spends most of his time looking for leads on his garde. He told me that his garde was Number Nine. Lucky him, except for the whole getting kidnapped and all.

Almost three weeks have passed since we first came to the penthouse when something finally happens. We hear someone through the macrocosm.

It was a regular day. I had gotten up, eaten, spent an hour or two sparring with Cassie, and then we were messing with the macrocosm. When I hold the crystal and speak, it comes through the globe of earth on a delay, so I messed around-made funny noises, that kind of thing. I had lowered the crystal from my mouth after my usual minutes of that, grinned at Cassie, and then the voice came through.

"Adalina, despierta! Despierta, por favor! Adelina!"

I look over at Cassie, mouth open. She has hers open too. After a second I say into the red crystal, "Hello?"

* * *

Sam zips us down a tiny dirt road. The globe continues to whir in my face. The tiny pulsing light continues to try to tell us something. Sam pulls off the road and kills the engine and lights. He turns around in his seat to face the globe. "So, I'm thinking it's you guys," he says. "Other numbers. And those numbers are in Spain and Chicago."

"We have no way of knowing that," Six says.

"Seriously, think about it." Sam responds. "If the Elders were going to give you all this stuff in your chest, then they'd give you something to communicate with each other. Right? Maybe that dot in Spain is a number that needs our help."

"Or maybe one of the others is being tortured and they're being forced to make contact and it's a trap," Six says.

I'm about to agree when the edges of Earth grow fuzzy and then the globe vibrates with a female voice that says, "Adalina, despierta! Despierta, por favor! Adelina!"

Just a second after the voice ends, the globe vibrates with a confused male voice. "Hello?"

The globe suddenly shrinks, re-forms into the seven orbs and returns to normal.

"Woah, woah, woah! What just happened?" I ask.

"I'd say the signal has been cut," says Sam.

"Who were those people? And who's Adelina?" Six asks.

* * *

The globe suddenly shrinks back into the marbles and fall to the floor. Cassie catches them and tosses them back into the air, but they don't form Earth again, just the solar system of Lorien.

Sandor runs into the room while we're still blinking, trying to figure out what happened. "I think I know where Nine is," he says.

Cassie tosses the marbles in the bag and back into her chest. "You don't sound very excited," she says.

"The bad news is, he's a prisoner in a mogadorian base." Sandor sits on the couch and rubs his hand over his face, tugging slightly on his beard.

"Where is the base?" Mareese asks.

"Inside a mountain in West Virginia," Sandor sighs. "But an attack would be suicide. The schematics I have of the base show that the cells are way deep down."

"How did you get schematics?" Mareese asks.

"I hacked into their systems," Sandor responds. "I have a computer dedicated solely to scrambling my location all over the globe. We're safe here, but they'll probably find the hack and kick me out within a couple hours. I wasn't going to risk sending any information back to my computer here, so…" He holds up several printed photos of the monitor taken by a cell phone. On it are schematics of the base.

"But you said an attack would be suicide," Cassie says. "What good do the schematics do us, then?"

I speak up, an idea forming in my mind. "Do you know where the cells are located specifically, from straight down aboveground?"

I can see Sandor realizing what I'm thinking of. "Yes, but you'd have to phase down in a straight line. You could end up going down to the Earth's core if you miss."

I turn to Cassie. "You can fly, right? So I phase us both aboveground, we fall down, if we go past the depth the cells are supposed to be, you can fly us back up?"

"I don't know if that would even work while you were phasing, though," She cautions, glancing at Sandor and Mareese.

"Let's test it right now." I touch her wrist and phase us. She hovers a foot or two off the ground, not losing contact with me. I let go and she shivers. "That's a weird feeling. Seems like it works, though."

"Well, alright," Sandor says, a slightly crazy grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we're going to West Virginia."


	8. Chapter 7

**This a short chapter-setting things in motion for the next couple chapters. It's gonna be FIGHTS! Hope y'all enjoy!**

* * *

The door creaks open slowly, but the boy keeps the sound from traveling. They step inside, making sure skin contact remains. The two dozen or so mogadorians seated inside are so engrossed by their screens that none of them see the door open and close. They do notice the two teenagers that appear out of thin air.

They scream as they die, thrashing and cursing, but nothing is heard beyond the room's walls. When the room is devoid of life except for the teenagers, they move on to the next room. Soon, the entire building is cleared. It's too easy, and both of them think that this extermination is boring. They're both itching for a real fight.

The girl pauses as they're poring over the computers and maps left by the recently deceased. She pins the paper on the wall with her finger and both of them look at the icon above her finger. They smile at each other.

A real fight.

* * *

It takes us a a day or so to get ready. We're packing light, just one change of clothes and our stuff in duffel bags. I'm bringing my duffel bag out to the main room as Sandor emerges from his workshop, holding a boxful of fist-sized objects. He places them down and I walk over, picking one up and tossing it in the air. "What are these?"

He eyes me, amused. "Those are grenades, Daniel."

I gingerly place it back into the box. "We're taking all of these? Seems like overkill."

"No such thing as overkill when it comes to the Mogs," Sandor replies. "You'll be fighting your way out when you get down there. You'll have Nine, of course, but even still…"

My mind goes back to the Lecture Hall. I can't imagine how strong someone who trained in there for five years would be.

"The most ferocious Mogadorian beasts on Earth are in that mountain," Sandor continues. "Koravids, Detropas, Poreals and more." He catches my confused look. "They were in Lorien's alien life database."

"They are beasts that defy imagination," Mareese says, bringing his own duffel bag to the main room. "Don't underestimate them, Daniel. You are powerful, that is true, but these are creatures bred and taught with instincts only to kill."

We start driving towards West Virginia a couple minutes before dark. There's no talking in the RV, just Cassie and I poring over the files and information that Sandor pulled from their systems with his hack.

I start to think about Cassie even though I know I can't afford to be distracted. I know that I like her, and...I _think_ she likes me, but I'm not sure. She doesn't strike me as a girl interested in dating. I decide to talk to her about this when we're back at the penthouse with Nine. Whatever happens after, it'll be better than this limbo.

Reading about the Mogadorian beasts we're going to fight and getting closer to the mountain, I get dizzy and everything seems to pound around me for a second. Hyperreal. I set the files on the small table and close my eyes, massaging my temples. I need to get my shit together. There's no room for fear or hesitation once we get down there. Despite knowing this, I can't stop these feelings. It's only my second fight.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and open my eyes. Cassie looks at me understandingly and squeezes my shoulder. It brings me back and I nod at her gratefully. She withdraws her hand and focuses back on the file in her lap.

These are the monsters that killed my people and scarred my planet. Now we're coming for them.

We drive all night and reach West Virginia as the sun is rising. Cassie and I have slept for a couple hours before the fight. We stop at the base of a relatively small mountain and Sandor leads us on a short hike a couple hundred feet up the mountain. He stops next to a tall bare tree with a crawler vine wrapping around it and announces "This is the place."

He gives us a bag full of the grenades. "You know how to use them, right?" He asks me, half-joking.

I flip open the small cap on one end of the oval-shaped explosive and put my thumb on the button there. "Like this?" I respond jauntily.

"There's a three-second delay," Sandor says, ignoring my bluster. "So don't waste time. Your exit is the other side of the mountain." He points and we follow his finger. "When you get out, come around and find the RV."

Cassie nods to him and we both check ourselves. I have my knives securely nestled into my pockets. The bag of grenades hangs from my shoulder. Cassie's armband with the quarter-sized slivers of materials is around her arm. We're dressed to allow for maximum movement, skintight stretchy material that feels like my old gym shorts. The mountain's cold air blows over us and I shiver.

I hold Cassie's arm. She holds onto me. We're standing across from each other. I force myself to look her in the eyes, tilting my neck back slightly. Her lips curve upward and she winks at me. Self-conscious red floods my cheeks and makes it hard to think. She's aware of what I'm purposefully ignoring and it amuses her.

"Daniel," Mareese says sternly. "Focus."

I lock eyes with him and nod after a couple seconds. The seriousness of the situation occurs to me once again. Our faces grow solemn. I take a deep breath, easing the butterflies in my stomach, and phase. Cassie and I begin to fall through the ground. All around us is darkness. It could be my imagination, but I think I hear a faint alarm growing louder.

* * *

I run as fast as I can away from the cafe, ignoring Hector calling my name behind me. It never even occurred to me that they would go to him. How stupid I've been.

I enter the convent at a run, ignoring the sisters and girls I pass. Adelina is waiting for me in the sleeping quarters with a suitcase between her legs. She jumps up and hugs me. "You need to see this," She says, pulling away. She unfolds a printed photo and hands it to me.

It takes a second for me to recognize it. I've grown so familiar to it on my leg, my eyes can't make sense of it in another context. It's the brand from the Loric charm, carved with sharp angles and straight lines into the side of a mountain. My heart sinks and my knees are suddenly weak. I look at Adelina, my mouth frozen half-open.

"We need to go," I say. She nods and picks up her suitcase. We make for the hallway when the ground shakes and we both lose our balance. There's an explosion that makes my ears ache. Adelina smacks her shoulder on the stone floor. The girls scream in confusion and panic. I know there is only one thing this could be. I can suddenly feel a cold wind blowing on me. I look towards the roof and I see a hole the size of a bus in it. A man with blonde hair walks to the edge of the hole and looks down. He points at me.


	9. Chapter 8

We drop through the ceiling and Cassie slows us immediately, dropping the last couple inches to the floor. I can tell there's something going on: an alarm is blaring and the cell doors are all suspended a foot from the floor. A squad of mogs runs towards us, armed with swords and blasters. Cassie immediately creates a metal shield in front of us and the blaster shots glance off.

I pull out my knives and we run forward to meet them. She grows a long spike in her hand and we slice through them. As I stab one in the chest, my other wrist is kicked and my knife clatters away. I spin my head around and duck to the side as a sword passes above me, cleaving the air. The Mogadorian takes a half step forward to regain his balance and I stab him in the side as I'm rising and turning. He puts a hand on the wound and throws a punch at me. I dodge and grab his arm as it goes past my shoulder. I electrocute him and he explodes into ash after convulsing.

I'm tackled by another before I can react and my head hits the floor, causing stars to dance across my vision. He raises his sword over his head and in that split second all I can think of is my scar wrapping around the rest of the garde.

Then a dark shape launches itself over my head and hits the Mog feet first in the chest. The mog falls backward and the boy vaults off, wrestling the sword from the dazed Mog with little resistance. He swings and decapitates the Mog, his head disintegrating into ash as it flies over me.

He pulls to my feet and I look him over. He's shirtless, toned, and tall, with a head of long black hair. He might be taller than Cassie. He has two scars on his leg. "Are you number nine?" I ask, pulling my knife back to my hand with telekinesis.

He nods. "And you are?" He asks, staring at the hallway cleared of Mogadorians.

"Three, but call me Daniel," I say. Cassie walks towards us, holding her ash-smeared spike. "Good to finally meet you, Nine. I'm Eight. Call me Cassie."

"Finally?" Nine asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Sandor sent us," Cassie said.

A look of shame flits across Nine's face, so fast I think I might've imagined it. "He's here?"

"He's waiting for us," I say, but my words are obscured by a loud screech of metal behind us. The three of us turn around to see one of the metal prisoner doors fly across the hallway and crash into the other wall of cells.

The ceiling rumbles and part of it collapses. Working together, we deflect the rocks away from us. A boy emerges from the cell.

He's my height, and stocky, with a bare wide chest. His forearms are the size of my calves. Two scars decorate his thick leg. His skin is dark gray, the color of the smooth stone underfoot. As I watch, it fades to a normal flesh color. His eyes dance over us, noting our clothes and the scars on Nine. "Five," he says by way of greeting after a few moments.

I'm dumbfounded. We came here for Nine and we found another garde as well. But the surprises aren't over.

A teenage boy runs towards us, holding a gun on his shoulder. There's another boy behind him, holding two chests and floating another one in front of him. The boy with the gun aims it at us and says in a desperate voice, "Do you know a man named Malcolm Goode? Forty years old, brown hair? Is he here? Have you seen him?"

The boy behind him drops the chests when he sees us. "What numbers are you? I'm Four."

"Good job staying alive, Four. I'm Nine." Nine says. We introduce ourselves again and the boy with the gun tells us he's Sam. Nine and Five focus on the chests that Four dropped. They each move to one and close their hands around the locks that hang there.

"Malcolm Goode, have you seen him? Please, I need to find him!"

Nine lifts a small red rock out of his chest. "This will make shit go faster, Sammy. Just aim and squeeze."

"He's human, man," Four says. "He can't use this stuff."

Nine presses his thumb to Sam's forehead and there's an electric buzz, not unlike when I use my legacy. "You've got about ten minutes. Get to it." He plunges his hands back into his chest.

Five pulls a brown leather sleeve from his chest and pulls it onto his right arm. He clenches his fist and a needle blade shoots out of the sleeve. He grins. At that moment I'm really glad he's on our side.

The stone that Nine gave Sam reveals things behind the walls. It's a freaking x-ray. Sam runs down the corridor, aiming the stone at the cells. They're all empty. He gets to the large metal door at the end and the stone reveals more than a dozen mogs behind it. One mog is twisting exposed wires together at a keypad next to the door.

"Sam!" Four yells. "Get back!"

The door rises and Sam sprints away, firing his gun behind him. "Got any other legacies?" Four asks over the sound of the shooting.

Nine winks and then he's a blur, moving up the wall and across the ceiling at super speed. He drops behind the group of Mogadorians and begins to tear through them with a ferocity and efficiency I've seen only in TV shows and movies.

When he's done, he jogs on the left wall and kicks his chest closed. "Antigravity. Now that's a cool legacy." Sam says.

"I can also hear pretty well. For miles."

"Okay, let's go," Four says. He lifts his chest up. Nine scoops his up easily and balances it on his shoulder. Five does the same. "What about those?" Nine asks Sam, nodding to the cells past the door the mogs entered.

"We have to go," Cassie says. I agree. We're already pushing our luck. We'll be surrounded in seconds. But there's no persuading Sam. He runs through the door with the red rock. A group of mogs emerges from a hidden tunnel between us. Sam presses against the wall and begins to shoot them. A few explode into ash, but our view is soon obscured by a group of krauls.

Four throws a boulder with his mind. It smashes the krauls, killing all but a few. Nine grabs one by the back legs and spins it against the wall. Five punches them viciously, leaving dents with skin that is suddenly hard and gray.

"They're everywhere!" Nine laughs. Four runs forward, yelling "We have to get to Sam!"

Before I can help him, a piken picks us up in its enormous hands and throws us down an opposite hallway. Cassie and Five catch themselves in the air-a legacy they share. Four, Nine, and I keep going. We hit the wall of the hallway. Four lands on top of a chest and another lands on top of him. I hit the floor and tumble, standing up shakily. I lean against the wall.

Nine stands up and smiles. There's blood on his teeth. "You're enjoying this?" Four asks in a disbelieving tone.

"I've been locked up for almost six months," Nine tells us. "This is the best day of my life!"

Two pikens duck into the tunnel. Cassie creates a hammer and smacks one in the head. Five flies into the other one in a cannonball, sending it crashing backward. Four digs into his chest, wincing, and Nine opens his own chest. He pulls a short silver rod from it and it expands until it's over six feet long.

He runs towards the pikens. He pulls a boulder into the back of its head, making it stumble forward. He strikes the side of its head with his staff, sending its head whipping sideways. Five jabs his needle blade into the back of its neck and spins around it, burying his foot into its eye. It begins to disintegrate.

Cassie spins the hammer away. It hits the piken and makes it angrier. She grows two spikes from her hands that penetrate the piken's face and pierces out through it's back. It slumps and begins to disintegrate, leaving only the spikes laying on the ground.

More pikens squeeze into the far end of the tunnel and a flock of transparent birds with sharp teeth fly toward us from the other end of the tunnel. Nine pulls a strand of green stones from his chest and whips them at the flock. He closes his eyes and they suck in the birds. The stones zip towards the pikens and release the birds in their faces. Nine yells, "Boulder them!"

We throw boulders at them with our minds and bodies-Nine and Five use both. The piken and birds collapse under our barrage, but more piken push their way into the tunnel, roaring. "They'll keep coming, we have to run! Number Six is meeting us!" Four yells.

They lift their chests and we start to run. We take a left turn first, and Nine whips boulders at the ceiling, bringing it down behind us. Still, with every turn, more enemies appear behind us.

We come to a long, low-arching bridge made of solid rock. Below is a steaming pool of green lava unlike anything I've ever seen. Charging at us across the narrow bridge is a thick group of mogs. In the tunnel behind us are a group of piken racing straight for us.

"Where do we go?" Four asks.

"We go under," Nine says. He grabs Four's hand and reaches for mine, but I shake my head and phase. He shrugs and starts to go under the bridge. Cassie and Five float under and fly after them. I run through the group of mogs and they swing for me, instead cutting through their own ranks. I grin and track the other garde. A ball of green lava flies towards me from down below and I duck instinctively. It spreads over the remaining mogs.

I phase through the floor of the tunnel the bridge leads to and fall towards the garde. I land, tumble, and stand, just in time to see Four gets hit in the back with a blaster shot. He falls forwards and begins to roll down the cave. We run after him.

It levels out soon and he rolls onto his stomach, grimacing and spasming. I realize we're near the exit that Sandor had pointed out. There's a tarp flapping in the wind, and I can see slivers of moonlight as it flaps. Rocks crumble behind us.

"Straight ahead. It's the exit. We can regroup out there," Four manages to say.

I help him stand and pull his arm around my shoulders. We hobble out and the rest follow, Five carrying his own and Four's chests. There's a line of shapes outside the tarp that I think are rocks at first until the smell hits me. Four and I gag and we lean against a tree. I let him sink down against the trunk until he's sitting.

Nine digs in his chest. A beagle wanders out of the woods and licks Four's fingers. There are tears running down Four's face. I feel awkward and stand back a few feet. I don't know what to say. "I don't deserve that," Four says. "I'm a coward. I'm cursed."

The beagle sniffs my legs before turning into a horse. "Whoa!" Nine says. "What the hell is that?"

"Chimaera," Four whispers. "He's Loric."

Nine presses a stone against the open wound on Four's back. I watch as the skin turns yellow, then white, until it takes on Four's normal skin color. He shakes as it heals.

The sky rumbles and dark clouds gather above the mountain. Four stands to watch. A bad feeling comes over me. A perfectly spherical pearly white ship comes through the eye of the tornado. It lands near the entrance, sending tremors through the ground. The side melts away, making a doorway.

A large figure steps out. He walks to the entrance and pauses. He turns and looks in our general direction, and even from this distance, through the crashing of lightning, the howling wind and the darkness, I can see the glow of four loralite pendants hanging around his neck.

Wait. Four?

Nine gasps. "Setrakus Ra. He's here."

"So that's his name," Four says quietly, staring at the figure.

"That _was_ his name. For every day they tried to torture us, I'm going to stab him with this." Nine's pipe staff grows rotating blades at the end and glows red. "I'm going to kill him."

Together, we charge out of the woods, Nine leading the way. Setrakus Ra disappears into the cave and a bubbling blue force field appears over the entrance. Nine stabs his staff into the ground and skids to a stop. Four keeps going.

Five and Nine scream at him to stop, but he hits the force field and collapses.

* * *

I do it without thinking. I send two metal bed frames rocketing at the man. He falls forward, and to my amazement, turns into a pile of dirt or ash when he hits the floor.

"Run!" Adelina screams.

She grabs my hand and we run through the hallway, frantic. I pull us towards the chapel and Adelina resists. "What-" She says.

"We're not leaving the chest here," I say. We enter the chapel. It's dark and empty. I let go of our hand, whispering "I'll be right back," and float myself up to the nook where my chest is hidden.

It's gone.

My entire body sweats with panic. I almost vomit. Did the Mogadorians know it was up here the whole time? Why didn't they trap me in here when they had the chance? I float back onto the nave floor.

"It's gone, Adelina," I whisper.

"The Chest?"

"It's gone." I hug her and bury my face in her shoulder. She pulls something up over her head. It's a pale blue, almost transparent amulet attached to a beige cord. She carefully slips it over my hair until the amulet touches my neck. It's both cold and warm at the same time against my skin, and then it glows brightly. My breath is taken away.

"What is it?" I ask, covering the glow with my hands.

"Loralite, the most powerful gem on Lorien, found only at its core," she whispers. "I've hidden it this whole time. It's yours, and there's no use in hiding it any longer. They know who you are, with or without the amulet. I'll never forgive myself for not training you properly. Never. I'm sorry, Marina."

"It's okay," I say, feeling tears well up in my eyes. All these years, this was all I had wanted from her. Understanding. Companionship. The acknowledgment of shared secrets.

"Where do we go?" I ask Adelina. Now that the Chest is gone, I feel directionless. Even with the amulet around my neck.

"We go to the belfry, and you use your telekinesis to get us into the yard. Then we run."

I take her hand and start running when a ball of fire suddenly roars from the back of the nave. The fire takes hold of the back pews and rages towards the high ceiling. The nave is now brighter than it is during Sunday Mass. A man in a trench coat with long blond hair walks confidently out of the northern hallway, our path to freedom, and every muscle in my body seems to come unwound at the same time; every inch of skin breaks out with goosebumps.

He stands watching us, the flames attacking several more rows of pews, and then a sneer slowly breaks across his face. From the corner of my eye, I can see Adelina reach into her dress and remove something, but I can't tell what it is. She stands beside me, her eyes aimed at the back of the nave. And then, ever so gently, she reaches up and pushes me behind her.

"I can't make up for lost time, or for the wrongs that I've done," she says. "But I'm certainly going to try. Don't let them catch you."

Just then the Mogadorian comes charging towards us, right down the center aisle. He's far larger than he looked from a distance, and he lifts a long sword that glows a fluorescent green color.

"Get as far from here as you can," Adelina says without turning. "Be brave, Marina."

I try to move, but I'm rooted in place. A glint of light in Adelina's hand catches my gaze, and I realize that what she removed from her dress was a kitchen knife. She runs towards the Mogadorian, and I start running down a pew the other way. With precision I've never seen before from her, she drops to the ground as the Mogadorian leaps and swings his sword for her throat. He misses her entirely, and as she comes back up she catches him flush with the knife's blade across his right thigh. Dark blood spurts out, but it does little to slow the Mogadorian; he turns and brings the sword back down. Adelina rolls forward, and it's with nothing short of awe that I watch her pass the knife across the Mogadorian's other leg as the momentum pushes her to her feet. How can I leave Adelina to fight alone?

The Mogadorian wraps his left hand around her throat and lifts her up. With his other hand he brandishes the sword and swings it towards Adelina's chest. I'm stunned by what happens next.

A dark shape rises a foot above and behind the Mogadorian and then drops, fist falling like a hammer. It goes through the Mogadorian's back, coming out on the right side of his chest in a blur. The man coughs. It sounds like a frog is stuck in his throat. He looks down in surprise and collapses into a pile of ash. Like the man in the sleeping quarters.

Adelina leans on a pew and massages her throat, looking at the newcomer. He smiles shyly at us, a little friendliness showing despite the dark blood on his hand and the utter ease with which he dispatched the Mogadorian warrior. I'm shocked by the casual strength he seems to possess.

Another Mogadorian with brown hair and a trench coat comes into the nave behind the boy. He raises his hand and a blinding white light comes from it. It strikes the boy in the back and he's thrown forward, landing at our feet facedown. His back is unblemished, smooth brown skin, but there's a hole in his shirt. He groans and gets up on all fours. My eyes gravitate towards the two scars on his right leg. He's one of us.

The mog's hand begins to glow again before any of us can react, but he explodes into ash before whatever weapon he has discharges. Behind him is the Mogadorian from the cafe. I don't understand. Is their selfishness such that they would kill each other to be the one to kill me?

"I can kill you," I say. I lift my hand towards him. Adelina puts hers on top of mine and shakes her head.

"Time is extremely short," The man says, jogging over. "I'm not who you think I am. I'm one of you, and I'm here to help." The boy stands up, unharmed.

The man leads us from the nave before any others arrive. He leads us down the northern hallway and to the second floor, heading towards the belfry tower.

"Who are you?" I ask. A hundred different questions race through my head. If he's one of us, then why did it take him so long to tell me? Why torture me into believing he was one of them? Can I even trust him? Adelina stopped me from killing him, so she must know somehow.

"Shhh," he whispers. "Keep quiet."

The musty hallway is silent, and as it narrows, I hear dozens of heavy footsteps on the floor below us. Finally, we reach the oak door. It opens just a crack, and a girl's head sticks out. I gasp. Auburn hair, curious brown eyes, small features. She's older by years, but there's no mistaking that it's her.

"Ella?" I ask.

She looks eleven years old, maybe twelve. Her face, which brightens at the sight of mine, is more slender now. Ella pulls the door open so we can enter.

"Hi, Marina," she says in a voice I don't recognize.

The man pulls me in, shutting the door. He wedges a thick wooden board between the door and the bottom stair, and the five of us rush up the circular stone steps. When we get to the belfry, I take another look at Ella. All I can do is stare at her, wide-eyed and confused.

"Marina, my name is Crayton," the man says.

"I don't understand," I say, still staring at Ella.

"We'll explain it all to you, I promise. There isn't much time. Please be more careful with this," Crayton says. "It's far more vital than you know."

I look to where he's pointing. "My Chest!"

There's an explosion nearby. The tower sways and dust and rocks drop from the ceiling and walls. More rocks fall as another blast takes me off my feet. I use my telekinesis to stop their descent, and I fling them out the window.

"They're searching for us, and it's not going to take long until they realize where we are," he says. He looks at Ella, and then at me. "She's one of you. A member of the Garde from Lorien."

"But she's not old enough," I say, shaking my head, unable to replace the younger version I've come to know with this older one. "I don't get it."

"Do you know what an Aeternus is?"

I shake my head. Adelina nods slightly by my side.

"Show her, Ella."

While standing in front of me, Ella begins to change. Her arms shorten and her shoulders narrow; she loses twenty centimeters of height, and her weight drops significantly. The shrinking of her face shocks me the most, and quickly she looks like the tiny girl I've come to love.

"She's an Aeternus," Crayton says. "She's able to move back and forth between different ages."

"I—I didn't know that was possible," I stutter. The boy has a bewildered look on his face. He's more open with his emotions than me, easier to read.

"Ella's eleven years old," he says. "She came with me on a second ship from Lorien that left after yours. She was just a baby, only hours old. Loridas, the last remaining Elder, sacrificed himself so that Ella could assume his role and grow into his powers."

As I'm looking at Crayton, Ella slips her hand into mine as she's done so many times before; but it feels different now. I glance over and see that she's returned to the older, taller version of herself. Recognizing my discomfort, Ella shrinks back down, the four years quickly melting away until she's seven again.

"She's the tenth child," he says. "The tenth Elder. We created a rumor about her backstory, her parents dying in a car accident, and we sent her here to live with you to watch over you and be the eyes I needed."

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth, Marina," she says in her soft voice. "But I'm the best secret-keeper in the whole world, just like you said."

"I know you are," I say.

"I was just waiting for Adelina to give you your Chest," she says, smiling.

"Do you know who the tenth Elder was?" Crayton asks. "Changing his age is how Loridas was able to live as long as he did, even after the other Elders had passed away. Each time he grew old, he made himself young again, and assumed the vitality that comes with it."

"Are you Ella's Cêpan?"

"Only in the surrogate sense of the word. Since she was just born, she hadn't been assigned a Cêpan yet."

"I thought you were a Mogadorian," I say.

"I know, but only because you misinterpreted the clues. This morning when I was talking to Héctor, I was trying to show you I was a friend."

"But why didn't you just come and get me when you arrived? Why send Ella in?"

"I tried approaching Adelina first, but she cast me out the second she knew who I was, and we needed you to have your Chest. I couldn't pull you away without it," he says. "So I sent Ella in, and she started looking for it even before you asked her to. The Mogadorians have known your general location for a good while now, and I've done my best to keep them off your trail. Killing some, well, killing most, but also planting stories in villages hundreds of miles away, about kids doing amazing things, like about a boy who lifted a car above his head and a girl who could walk across a lake. It was working until they discovered you were in Santa Teresa; but even then, they still didn't know which one you were. Then Ella found the Chest and you opened it, and that's when I came here, to talk to you in private. When you opened the Chest, it led the Mogadorians right here."

I'm a little ashamed by my opening the chest, even though I didn't know it would lead them straight here. "Because I opened the Chest?"

"Yes. Go ahead, open it up now."

I let go of Ella's hand and grab hold of the lock. Adelina puts her hand around the lock, interlacing her fingers with mine. I remove the lock and toss the lid open. The boy approaches tentatively and looks over my shoulder. The small crystal is still glowing a faint blue.

"Don't touch that," Crayton says. "The fact that it's glowing means a Macrocosm is in orbit somewhere. If you touch it now, it will tell them exactly where you are. I don't know whose Macrocosm is operational, but I'm pretty sure the Mogadorians have stolen somebody's," he finishes. I haven't the slightest idea of what he's talking about.

"Macrocosm?" I ask.

He shakes his head, frustrated. "There isn't time to explain it all," he says. "Relock it." He opens his mouth to say more, but is interrupted by banging on the door at the bottom of the stairs. We can hear muffled bursts of foreign voices.

"We have to go," Crayton says, rushing to the back of the room and grabbing a large black suitcase. He flings it open, revealing ten different guns, a handful of grenades, several daggers. He shrugs his coat to the floor and reveals a leather vest, and he rushes to strap every piece of weaponry to it before slipping his coat back on.

The Mogadorians ram the door below with a heavy object, and we hear footsteps enter the stairwell. Crayton removes one of the guns and snaps a clip into it. He tosses Adelina a gun.

"The burning symbol on the mountain," I say. "Was it you?"

He nods. "I waited too long, I'm afraid, and when you opened the Chest it became impossible to slip away under their gaze. So I created the biggest beacon I could, and now we have to hope the others have seen it, and that they're on the way. Otherwise..." He trails off, glancing at the boy. "Well, otherwise we're out of options. We have to get to the lake now. It's our only chance."

I have no idea what lake he's talking about, or why he wants to go there, but my whole body is trembling. I just want to get away.

The footsteps are closer. Ella grabs hold of my hand, back to her eleven-year-old self. Crayton pulls the slide on the gun, and I hear a bullet clicking into place. He aims it at the belfry's entryway.

"You have a very good friend in town," he says.

"Héctor?" I ask, suddenly understanding why the two of them were talking in the café this morning. Crayton wasn't spreading lies, but rather telling the truth.

"Yes, and let's hope he keeps his word."

"Héctor will," I say, certain that's true regardless of what Crayton has asked him to do. "It's in his name," I add.

"Grab the Chest," Adelina says.

I reach down and take the Chest in my left arm just as we hear the footsteps reach the last curves of the stairwell.

"The three of you, stay close to me," Crayton says, his eyes moving from Ella to me to the boy. "Ella was born able to change ages, but she's young and hasn't developed any Legacies yet. Keep her close. And don't let go of that Chest."

"Don't worry, Marina. I'm fast," she says, smiling.

"You three ready?"

"Ready," Ella says, tightening her hand around mine.

"They're all going to be wearing body armor that would stop almost every bullet here on Earth," Crayton says, "but I've soaked mine in Loricyde, and there isn't a shield here that could stop them. I'm going to mow every damn one of them down." His eyes narrow. "Keep your fingers crossed that Héctor's outside the gates waiting for us."

"He'll be there," I say.

Then our Cepans pull their triggers, and they don't let go until every bullet's been fired.


	10. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the long wait, but here's a new chapter! Unfortunately, the next chapter probably won't come for a month or two...crunch time for me! I hope you enjoy, please review!**

* * *

We stop and stare, open-mouthed, at Four's body laying at the cave entrance. Five is the first to react, darting forward in the air and slowing with grace that defies his wide body. He picks Four up and flies back, setting him down gently. Four's face is stuck in a grimace of pain. I realize he's unconscious.

"We need to get away from here," Cassie says, facing towards the entrance. Her fists are clenched. Nine nods and then picks Four back up. Cassie leads us around the mountain toward the tall bare tree with the crawler vine, and then a few hundred feet down where the RV is.

She slows as she gets close. "What…"

There are several darkened spots on the side of the RV. The door is half cut off, and black smoke wafts from under the hood. Cassie and I enter. The wall of the other side is half blown out. Jagged pieces of wood and metal are strewn on the packed dirt outside. Sandor and Mareese are nowhere to be seen.

"I'm guessing it's not supposed to be like this," Nine says quietly, walking in behind us. He looks around.

I shake my head. "They...they were supposed to be here."

"...Sandor?" Nine asks after a moment.

We nod.

"Dammit," he mutters. "Goddammit." He walks outside. Cassie and I exchange worried looks. She says, "They could have been forced to run. At least there aren't any bodies."

It's a small hope, but I cling to it. When we try to start the RV, it sputters for a few seconds and then dies. There's a blaster shot through the hood. When we open the hood, a cloud of black smoke billows out. It gets in my lungs and I cough and hack, light-headed.

"We can't drive this," Cassie says. Nine claps me on the back, making me stumble forward a couple steps. That was probably gentle for him.

"There's a cabin on that mountain," Five says, landing next to us. I hadn't even noticed he was gone. He points towards a mountain obscured by fog. It's a couple hours' hike at least. "We can rest there."

Five lifts Four on his shoulder. We each grab a chest and we take our first steps towards the mountain. The black smoke floats into the night sky.

* * *

There are fake names, and there are real names. Real names are who a person truly is. Real names carry power. Fake names are shadowy, discardable, like the ones on my license and my birth certificate and grocery receipts.

Italy was the first place we came too. We rented a apartment in an urban neighborhood of Venice. Nine months we spent there. We were an aunt and her late brother's daughter. In the daytime, we read together and walked- My fake name in Italy was Martina Matarozzo. My Cepan's name was Angelique Matarozzo. The same last name made it easier to fake blood relations. People see it and think no further.

After Italy, it was Austria. Laura Bauer was my new name. Then Poland, Belarus, Russia, Finland, and Russia again. That time, I left Russia without my Cepan. Each move signified with a new fake name.

Fake names are useful. Like the ID card I used to scam my way into here. The papers that say I own this truck. Even the Mogadorians can be fooled by good enough forgery and a wig. I wouldn't have gotten close if they knew my real name, Five. It's not a normal name, but it's closer to my heart than any of the "normal" names I've carried over the years.

I'm posing as a delivery truck driver. One look in the back was all the guards took before waving me through. They think I have a shipment of supplies from the Spanish government. It doesn't really surprise me that they're working together. People in power only want more power, and they don't care who gets hurt. What does surprise me, what I find a little funny, is how easily I fooled them. You'd think advanced aliens would be a little tighter on security. Easier for me, I guess.

I pull into a spot and the guards approach. I drop out of the cab and come to the back, dangling my keys. There are two guards waiting impatiently for me to unlock them. Another worker approaches, unarmed. He stands apart from the guards, uncomfortable with the guns they hold. I make a note to incapacitate him as gently as possible.

I open the door a couple inches and back away. The shorter guard snorts after a moment and grabs it, swinging it open. He peers inside and my partner grabs his exposed neck in a blur, smacking his head on the metal side of the truck. He's out cold and I move forward towards the partner. He attempts to pull his gun out and I grab his wrist, pulling it behind his back. He spins around, loosening my grip, and manages to wrest out. He pulls his gun out and his grip is held by something invisible. I can see his finger shaking on the trigger. I waste no time shouldering him, sending him stumbling back. I make a motion with my arm and the gun flies out of his grip into mine. He cries out. I grab his shoe with my mind and pull it forward. He trips and falls backward, confusion and fear in his eyes. The gun flies towards him and whips him on the head, knocking him out.

"You're welcome," My partner says, leaning on the truck door that's still closed. He waves a hand and a cage of transparent green tinted light appears around the unarmed man, who's been standing there. I playfully glare at my partner, narrowing one eye. "I had him."

"Mhmmm," He responds, not arguing. He tosses me a length of rope and I pull the guard up, binding his arms to his sides. I tighten it until there's no slack and do the same with his ankles. He's moaning and groggily waking up when I lay him inside the truck. My partner lays the first guard on the other side, similarly bound.

We go outside and stand in front of the worker in the forcefield. Forcefields. What a useful legacy. My partner's real name is equally as unusual as mine. Like me, he's had dozens, maybe hundreds of fake names.

I grip him with my telekinesis and nod to Nine. He waves a hand and dismisses the forcefield. The man's skin is clammy. He's only a few years older than us. This might be his first job out of university. He doesn't resist as I pull his arms to his side and tighten the noose around his body. His body goes in the back of the truck amid the empty wooden boxes we pulled from a junkyard. I float him over and set him down as gently as possible instead of the dragging and tossing treatment the guards got.

We lock the truck door and I pocket the key. They can still yell, but any attention they would get will be on us. "Ready?" I ask Nine.

He grins in response and we walk towards the tall metal door that leads into the building.

* * *

Up until one year ago, Natin Morrow was a regular girl for the most part. She maintained a solid B average in school, went to sleepovers and skating parks with her friends, worried over crushes and shared secrets with her older sister.

The first sign that she wasn't normal came when she was putting makeup on her face in front of the mirror. She went to put the brush down and her hand hit her phone, balanced precariously on the edge of the counter, which sent it falling towards the toilet next to the sink. She saw it out of the corner of her eye and reached for it, panic coursing through her, and then suddenly it wasn't falling. It was floating in the air, and she plucked it out and held it tightly, heart pounding.

It happened again a few days later, this time with a mug full of coffee. She accepted it hadn't been a weird daydream or fantasy. And then, with a baseball and a few hours in her room by herself, she learned how to summon it on command. It was weak, but like a muscle she was exercising, it became stronger every time she trained with it. It seemed to her like a limb she had forgotten she even had.

It wasn't the end of the weirdness. Natin's gym class played several games a week-basketball, baseball, kickball. She had always been one of the strongest, fastest, most athletic people in her class, but it was increasing in leaps and bounds. Fastballs like lightning, bodying other players on her way to the hoop and sending them crashing to the squeaky floor. One day she was pitching, and caught the ball in one hand as it zoomed back towards her. She lied to her friends and classmates, saying it was luck. Later, brushing her teeth and staring out the window of their apartment building, she would go over it in her head: pitching the ball, watching it hit the bat, and then fly back in slow motion. The energy that had coursed through her and moved her hand to the perfect place just in time to catch it.

She definitely wasn't regular then. Her athleticism and power continued to increase, and she discovered another hidden power a few months later. She trained her powers in secret, some deep instinct influencing her. She hid her strength and speed from everyone.

The only person she told was her grandpa, the only person she trusted enough to keep it a secret. He was the person who was always pushing her to see what she could do, who had gotten her into running and taught her to defend herself and fight. He was a grizzled army veteran who had served on three tours before being honorably discharged due to the loss of his leg.

Her new powers weren't anything different to him. He had always wanted her to be capable, able to protect herself. He kept pushing her to her limits, forcing her powers to grow stronger, more powerful.

Knowing what she could do had brought a change in Natin. She was bolder, more confident, less afraid to stand up and talk out. Her sister and her mother had noticed, and were worried at first. Natin almost told them her secret. But the instinct rose within her and she couldn't say anything. They came to accept her as time went on.

They weren't the only ones to notice. Her friends noticed as well. They wanted her to be quiet. It hurt, but she made new friends that liked her for who she really was.

It appeared her super powers were an isolated incident. Whatever caused them-radiation, chemicals, solar flares, a blessing from the ancient Mayan gods-it seemed there was no one else with powers, and nobody came looking for her. She found comfort in that she was safe because she was unknown. Not like comics or TV shows where mutants were hunted down.

That was, until the mall video.


	11. Chapter 10

**Thank you for the review, it means so much to me! I hope you all like this chapter, please review!**

* * *

No one is speaking in the cabin. The only sounds come from Nine biting into the rabbit he caught and barbecued with gusto. I hear a crunch as he pulls a leg bone out, snapping it in half and tossing it to the floor. It makes me a little sick and I stand up, walking out of the room.

This cabin only has three rooms. There's a bedroom, a kitchen, and a sort of living room. It looks like there was an outhouse but it's collapsed. I haven't needed to go to the bathroom, thankfully, although that's probably because we've scarcely eaten. Nine and Five are the only ones who have partaken in the local cuisine. Cassie and I have been using an item from Nine's chest that he called a sustenance cube. It's a blue stone around the size of my thumb above the first joint. When you put it in your mouth, it makes you feel full. It doesn't taste very good, but we haven't needed to use the bathroom.

Four has been laying in the bed for the day and a half. We healed him with the stone as much as we could, but the effects of the forcefield persist. He's been fading in and out of consciousness for the past two days.

We rested for a few hours in the cabin Five found, but it was too close to the mountain and they had sent out search patrols. So we got our stuff and left, going to the nearest road that Five saw. We stole the next car that was big enough for all five of us and our chests-a big SUV. It was positively cosy, with all of us stuffed in there. It reminded me of the road trips Mareese and I took between each move.

Mareese. With all the running and the new garde, I haven't had a lot of time to think about what happened to him. Logically, I know the Mogadorians wouldn't have bothered to take them alive. Mareese wouldn't have let them. But there's no way to know more about what happened until we get back to Chicago and I can try opening my chest. If they did kill him...I don't let my thoughts continue that way.

A horrible thought strikes me. Nine opened his chest by himself. That's only possible if Sandor is dead. And if Sandor is dead, then that makes it all the more likely that Mareese is. I don't know if Nine has even realized the connection.

For a moment, I debate telling him. But he deserves to know, more than Cassie or me. I wonder what I would feel like if one of them were keeping my Cepan's death from me and my mind is immediately made up.

"Nine, I think Sandor is dead," I say before I can discourage myself.

I hear a thump as Nine jumps from his standpoint on the ceiling, twists in midair, and lands in the doorway. He leans against the doorframe, the picture of nonchalance. He messes with the limp rabbit he was eating and gazes at me intensely. "Why?"

I force myself to keep talking. "Back in the mountain, you opened your chest by yourself."

"Oh, that," Nine says, flicking his eyes away. "Sandor and I fixed that so we could open it by ourselves."

I freeze. "You...you _fixed_ it?"

"Yeah, dude," He says. "We held hands and said some magic words."

The thought of messing with the charm that protects our chests is so alien to me that I have to think through it a few times. I didn't even know that was possible. Does that mean the mogadorians can mess with them, too? I wouldn't put anything past them. Nine has already turned away. I follow his gaze.

"Hey, Four?" Nine says. "You awake or what? Your food's getting cold."

Four pushes himself up from the ratty mattress and makes for the doorway. Nine turns sideways to let him through. Four makes it to a wall and slides down, sitting on the stained gray carpet. Five watches us from his seat against the other wall. He's barely spoken since leaving the base.

"Where are we again?" He asks, closing his eyes. He fumbles with the pendant laying on his chest.

"The northern part of West Virginia," Nine says between bites. "Ran out of gas, remember?"

"Barely," He whispers. "Where's Bernie Kosar?"

"Outside. That one is always on patrol. He is one cool animal. Tell me, Four, how did you of all the Garde end up with him?"

"BK was with me on Lorien. His name was Hadley back then." Four says. "I guess Henri thought it would be good to bring him along for the trip."

Nine throws a tiny bone across the room. "I had a couple of Chimæras as a kid too. Don't remember their names, but I can still see them running around our house tearing stuff up. They died in the war, protecting my family." Nine is silent for a moment, clenching his jaw. This is the first time I've seen him act anything other than tough. It's nice to see, even if it's short lived. "At least, that's what my Cêpan told me, anyway."

"What was your Cêpan's name?" Four asks, looking at the floor.

"Sandor," he says, walking up the wall until he's standing on the ceiling. "It's weird. I literally can't remember the last time I said his name out loud. Some days, I can barely picture his face." Nine's voice hardens, and he closes his eyes. "But that's how it goes, I guess. Whatever. They're the expendable ones."

Four's face tightens at Nine's words. "Henri was not expendable, and neither was Sandor! No Loric was ever expendable. And give me back my shoes!"

I hadn't even noticed that Nine had stolen Four's shoes. Nine kicks them into the middle of the floor, then takes his time walking along the ceiling and then down the back wall. "All right, all right. I know he wasn't expendable, man. Sometimes it's just easier to think of him that way, you know? Truth is, Sandor was-is-an amazing Cêpan." Nine reaches the floor and towers over us, even me standing. I forgot how tall he is. Intimidating. He shoves a handful of what he's been eating in Four's face. "You want some of this or not? Because I'm about to finish it off."

"What is that?" Four asks, unease and disgust etched on his face.

"Barbecued rabbit. Nature's finest."

Four doesn't respond, stumbling back towards the bedroom. Nine laughs after him. Four wedges the warped bedroom door into the frame as much as he can, blocking our view of him.

I'm tired and it's getting dark. I lay down on the place I've claimed as my very own sleeping spot: the floor by the wall opposite the front door. Just before I close my eyes, I watch Cassie enter and lean against the wall beside the front door, taking watch with Five. I fall into sleep.

Something makes me sit up. A feeling, a sound that I can't identify. I stand up and prowl around the room for the source. I can't hear anything now, not even my footsteps. The others aren't moving. Nine is standing like he was, Cassie is is leaning against the wall, and Five is looking straight ahead. They don't react to me at all.

For the first time, I look back to where I was laying and then do a double take. My body is laying against the wall. Panic flares. Am I dead somehow? Is this the inbetween? No, I realize, if I focus, I can see my chest rising up and down.

This is a dream.

There's something pulling me like gravity in a certain direction. I don't resist, letting it take me through the cabin wall. It doesn't feel like the usual mixing I experience when I phase, instead there's no sensation. I'm just inside one second and outside the next.

Then I'm floating through the air. I don't know how far I go, but before too long I'm back at the mountain base. The entrance with the blue force field is in front of me. I need to stop, I try to, but I'm not in control of my motion. I brace myself as it I hit it and then pass through.

I feel fine. I'm not moving anymore. I'm back in control. I still feel the pull, but I can resist it. I decide to follow it. I move through the maze of tunnels, seeing the charred remains of our battle here. I enter a huge cavern and gape at the size of it, and all the tunnels I see branching off. It would take *months* to map this whole base. It's astonishing and scary at the same time, how the Mogadorians have taken to Earth.

I keep going, passing through smaller caverns and rooms. I know where I'm going. The wide room lined with prison cells.

Setrakus Ra stands there. He is truly revolting. Suspended next to him in a small spherical cage is Mareese. His arms are stretched above his head and his legs are splayed, held in place with chains. A series of pipes are dripping steaming liquid onto various parts of Mareese' body. Blood has pooled and dried underneath the cage.

I stop around a dozen feet away from them. Ra sense my presence and turns around, the loric pendants dangling around his massive neck. The scar circling his throat pulses with a dark energy.

"We missed each other," Setrakus Ra growls.

I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. Mareese turns his head towards me, but I don't know if he can see me. More hot liquid drips from the pipes, hitting Mareese in the wrists, chest, knees and feet. A thick stream flows onto his cheek and rolls down his neck. He screams in agony. Seeing him tortured finally gives me a voice.

"Let him go!" I shout.

Setrákus Ra's eyes harden. The pendants around his neck glow and mine responds, lighting up as well. The blue Loralite gem is hot against my skin, and then it sparks with electricity the same color as the stone. I let it grow and flicker across my shoulders and arms. I feel a sudden sense of comfort that's not from my legacy, and sure as hell not from Setrakus Ra. I turn my head and see Four, fire traveling across his shoulders and back. The light from our legacies casts shadows in the dark room, illuminating it like a nightmare. I've only known him for a few days, but I know, with him here, that nothing can hurt us.

"I'll let him go," Setrakus says, "if you come back to the mountain, and fight me."

He points to Mareese' withered body and says, "You must decide. If you don't come, I'll kill him and then I'll kill the rest of them. If you do, I'll let them all live."

I hear a voice yelling. It's Nine. I sit up with a gasp. I'm covered in a thin layer of sweat and a trail of drool from my mouth is dripping on the floor. It takes me a few seconds to get my bearings.

"Guys! Get up!" Nine yells. "There's a ton of stuff we need to do!" He wipes his face with the back of his hand.

I stand up, trying to get the screams out of my head. Nine swings open the bedroom door and says to Four, "Seriously, bro. Get your shit together. We need to get out of here."

* * *

The gunfire makes my ears ring long after it's stopped. Smoke rises from the end of the barrel, but Crayton wastes no time and drops the gun's clip and snaps another in place. Heaping mounds of ash have given the air a thick haze. We stand waiting behind Crayton. He keeps the gun raised, his finger hovering on the trigger. A Mogadorian climbs into the entryway with a cannon of his own, but Crayton fires first, cutting him in half and hurling him backwards. The Mogadorian explodes before he hits the wall. A second jumps into view, wielding the same flashing weapon that hit me downstairs, but Crayton disposes of it before any light comes forth. He quickly tosses the woman-Adelina, the other Cepan-another clip. She replaces it in her own gun.

"Well, they know where we are now. Come on," he yells, rushing forward and down the stairs. Adelina follows, holding her gun in front of her. The two girls-both garde, if Crayton is to be believed-hold hands and follow them close behind. I take up the rear. Crayton stops after the second curve of the stairwell, pressing his fingers to his eyes. "There's too much ash in my eyes. I can't see anything," he says. "Marina, take the lead. If there's anything up ahead, yell and get the hell out of the way."

The taller girl ducks to the front of our unit. We're walking out of the broken oak door leading back into the convent just as the tower above us explodes.

We duck. Rubble or bullets can't hurt me, but I'm shaken by the weapon of white light-the only thing that's affected me since the night of my Cepan's death. Crayton instinctively begins firing. The gun unloads a rapid stream of ammunition—eight to ten bullets per second—and I can see an entire group of Mogadorians drop. Crayton stops firing.

"Marina?" he asks, nodding his head forward without looking back.

"I think it's clear," she says; and a Mogadorian leaps out of an open doorway and fires, sending a flashing white meteor raging towards us too bright to look at. We drop just in time, and the white death misses us by a hair. Crayton quickly lifts the gun and returns a barrage of bullets, killing the Mogadorian instantly.

Marina leads us forward. The ash stands thick on the floor, covering our feet and ankles. We pause at the top of the steps. Light from the windows comes through the fading ash, and Crayton has cleared his eyes. He takes the lead position, clutching the gun tightly to his chest while staying hidden behind the corner. Crayton takes a deep breath, nods his head, and then turns, dropping the barrel of the gun, ready to fire.

"Come on," he grunts.

We follow him and he escorts us across the nave's rear, which is black with fire damage. An explosion erupts against the outside wall on our right side. The stones blow inward, and Marina lifts her hand, preventing any of them from hitting Ella or her. I jump in front of Adelina and spread my arms, deflecting debris that would have killed her. It bounces away. Crayton gets hit hard, and he smashes against the wall to our left, landing with a grunt. The gun rattles away from him, and a Mogadorian enters the cathedral through the newly created hole. He's holding a cannon; and in one fluid motion, Marina brings Crayton's gun into her hand and pulls the trigger. She keeps firing until the Mogadorian is reduced to ash.

"Here," she says, pushing the gun into the girl's hands; and in the comfortable way she takes it, I can tell she's no stranger to firearms. Adelina steps out from behind me, looking at the pieces of stone and brick laying at my feet. "Thank you," she says earnestly, looking me in the eyes. I smile back, glad to have been useful.

Marina bends down next to Crayton. His arm is broken, and blood seeps from gashes on his head and face. But his eyes are open and he seems alert. She wraps her hands around his wrist. I watch the bones in his arm move under the skin, and the gashes on his face seal and disappear. His chest expands and contracts so fast I think his lungs are going to explode, but then he's calm again. He sits up and moves his arm fluidly.

"Nice job," he says. I'm in awe of her legacy.

He takes the gun from the girl, and we climb through the hole in the wall and out into the front grounds. I don't see a single person as we run ahead and pass through the iron gates while Crayton sweeps his gun back and forth, looking for any reason to fire it. My eyes are drawn over Crayton's left shoulder to a quick burst of red from the cathedral's roof. With a loud blast, the discharged rocket surges towards Crayton. Marina drops her chest and raises her hands towards it. I do the same, combining my telekinesis with hers. It takes more concentration than I've ever needed before. Working together, we're able to alter the rocket's path at the very last second. It misses him and angles off towards a mountain, where it hits it with a plume of fire. Crayton rushes us through the gates with eyes alert and the gun aimed. He pulls up and spins around.

He shakes his head, and from behind us we hear the church doors thrust open.

"He isn't here," Crayton says, and just before he turns around to begin firing, the sound of squealing tires pierces the air. The plastic covering that had kept the truck concealed falls off and its back side fishtails as the driver floors it. He comes racing our way and slams on the brakes when he reaches us. The truck screeches to a halt, and the man reaches across the seat and throws open the passenger-side door. Adelina races around and stuffs herself next to the chest. Marina and the girl jump in. Crayton stays out just long enough to empty his gun at the Mogadorians emerging from the church door. Several drop, but there are far too many to get them all. I don't know the driver, but Marine seems to trust him, and that's enough for me. I jump in after them. Crayton jumps in and slams the door, and the tires bite into the cobblestones in an attempt to find traction. There's the sound of another rocket nearing, but the tires catch and we go racing down the road.

We reach the bottom of the hill and fly past the signs announcing the town limits. I twist around to peer out the back window as Santa Teresa quickly fades behind us. Soon the town is gone, left behind. I know the Mogadorians will be pursuing us. They won't let their prey get away. I half-hear the driver talking to Marina, but I don't register the words. While Crayton refills the guns and takes inventory of his ammo, the driver navigates the windy and unpredictable road with reckless abandon. We bounce and skid along the sharp turns and sudden hills. But despite the speed, it doesn't take long for a convoy of vehicles to be seen in the distance behind us.

"Don't worry about them," Crayton says. "Just get us to the lake."

Even though the truck is barreling down the road, the convoy closes the gap. After ten minutes, a flash of light sails just over the truck and explodes into the countryside ahead of us.

"My God!" the driver says.

Crayton turns around and breaks the back window with the butt of his gun, then fires. I duck instinctively at the sound. The lead vehicle is upended, which makes us all cheer in celebration.

"That should keep them far enough back," Crayton says, quickly reloading the gun's clip.

And it does for a few minutes, but as the road grows more precarious and twists down the mountain at sharp declines, the vehicles catch right back up to us. Héctor mutters under his breath as he whips around each bend, the gas pedal buried, the truck's back tires swinging frighteningly over the edge of the towering cliff.

"Careful, Héctor," Crayton says. "Don't kill us before we get there. At least give us a chance."

"Héctor is in control," the driver replies, bringing no comfort whatsoever to Crayton, who keeps a white-knuckled grip on the headrest in front of him.

The only refuge is the road's perpetual turns, which keep the Mogadorians from getting a straight shot, though they try anyway.

As we race around a particularly sharp bend, Héctor can't turn us quickly enough and we go off the edge of the road. At a seventy-five-degree angle, the truck races down the dense mountainside, smashing through saplings, bouncing off boulders, barely avoiding thick trees. The three of us garde scream. Crayton yells as he flies forward and slams into the windshield. Héctor doesn't say a word; he clenches his teeth and maneuvers us around and over obstacles until we miraculously land on another road. The truck's hood is severely dented and smoking, but the engine is still running.

"This is a, uh, shortcut," Héctor says. He tries the gas pedal, and we quickly rumble down the new road.

"I think we lost them," says Crayton, looking up the cliff. He sticks the barrel of his gun out the back window and waits. Eventually the lake comes into view. I wonder why Crayton believes the lake will save us.

"What's the big deal about the lake?" Marina asks.

"You didn't think I'd come to find you with just Ella, did you?"

Soon the Mogadorians appear behind us again, and Crayton turns around while Héctor's eyes dart up to the rearview mirror.

"This is going to be close," Crayton says.

"We'll get out of it, Papa," Ella says, looking at Crayton. He smiles warmly at her, then nods. "You'll love Olivia," Ella says to us.

"Who's Olivia?" I ask, but she doesn't get a chance to answer before the road turns at a ninety-degree angle and declines sharply towards the lake ahead. Héctor barely lets up on the gas as the truck rams straight through a chain-link gate that surrounds the lake. We hit a slight bump, and the truck's tires leave the ground entirely before landing with a thud and bouncing on the shore. Héctor speeds straight for the water, and just before we reach it, he slams on the brakes and brings us skidding to a stop. Crayton shoulders open the passenger-side door and dashes towards the lake, rushing straight into the water until it reaches his knees. I tumble out after him, rolling to my knees. With the gun still in his left hand, he hurls an object as far as he can with his right and begins muttering something in a language that's familiar but unknown. My legacy immediately translates it. "Strobe light activate!"

"Come on!" he screams, thrusting his hands up in the air as though offering encouragement. "Come on, Olivia!"

Héctor, Ella, Marina, and Adelina rush out and run up near him. In an instant I see that the water has begun to crest and bubble in the lake's middle.

"Marina, do you know what a Chimæra is?" Crayton asks.

Just then a lone Mogadorian vehicle, a tanklike Humvee with a gun mounted on top, erupts onto the scene and speeds down the hill. As it comes right at us, in the water, Crayton unloads a barrage of bullets into the windshield. The vehicle instantly goes out of control, crashing straight into the back of Héctor's truck. It creates a deafening bang, followed by the crush of grinding metal and breaking glass. As the dozens of other vehicles in the convoy rumble down the last hill and begin firing, the world erupts in fire and smoke as explosions rock the beach, causing all six of us to hit the ground. Sand and water rain down, and we scramble back to our feet.

"Get out of here!" Crayton yells.

Marina and Ella join hands and begin running around the left side of the lake. They become a blur. Crayton tosses Hector the second gun and the three adults begin firing. Gunfire rattles through the air; and just as it lets up, a loud animal roar booms over our head, causing me to stop short. I turn to look at the creature able to create such a paralyzing call, knowing it's not of this world. A long, muscular neck protrudes ten or fifteen stories out of the water, the flesh a gleaming gray. At the end of it, a giant lizard head separates its pebbled lips to show an enormous set of teeth.

"About time," I hear Crayton grunt. Wait, does he mean what I think he means?

Olivia rears her head and lets loose another earsplitting roar, and in the middle of it, a series of high-pitched yipping sounds roll down from the mountain. I look up and see a pack of small beasts descending towards the lake. Olivia's neck is fully emerged and thirty stories high now, and as the rest of her body surfaces, her neck widens and her torso thickens. The Mogadorians immediately fire at her, and Olivia slams her head down on several at a time, creating large piles of ash. The Mogadorians fall back as a hundred krauls enter the lake and swim towards Olivia. The creatures leap out of the water and attack. Many claw their way up Olivia's back and rip at the base of her neck. The lake water is soon streaked with blood. I hear a scream and see that Marina and Ella are standing, looking at the lake.

Olivia roars in pain. She whips her head at her sides and back, trying to crush or bite the black krauls that have blanketed her. Crayton aims his gun at the beasts, but he lowers his weapon when he realizes he would most likely shoot Olivia in the process. He and Héctor instead fire on the army of Mogadorians lining up and preparing for a new attack.

Olivia wavers left and right, howls at the mountains, and backs herself up into the middle of the lake and slowly sinks in a wave of red. The krauls detach and swim towards the Mogadorians.

I run towards the crashing water to meet them, clenching my fists.


	12. Chapter 11

The first kraul lunges at me, snarling. I bury my fist in it's teeth, knocking a few out. The water swirls around my legs, making my movements sluggish. Two more krauls clamp down on my ankle and shoulder. Getting over the shock, I ball my fist and slam it down on the kraul's head. It whimpers and falls into the water. The other kraul is gnawing, trying to break the skin on my ankle.

It's now the least of my worries. The main group of krauls is arriving, swarming me. It would be easier to fight on the shore, but the closer I am to the others the more likely a kraul would go past me to them. So I keep spinning, knocking them back. Soon I'm surrounded by bodies. If I don't move, I'll be cut off from the others just from the sheer number of krauls. So I start to walk diagonally up to the beach, waving my arms to keep their attention on me. It works for the most part, although one jumps towards Crayton and Adelina and I throw them back, the telekinesis lapsing my concentration and letting them bury me for a few seconds before I punch out.

I'm back with the group, defending them from the last twenty or so krauls swimming from the water. As I'm disposing of them, the Cepans keep up a steady stream of blaster fire on the Mogadorians approaching. As I slam the last one down on the ground, caving it's skull in, I hear Adelina scream. I rush towards her as she drops and grab her arm, slinging it around my neck. I hear her breathe in sharply from the movement. "Just hold on for Marina," I say. She's got a blaster wound on her side. It's large and nasty. Hector and Crayton keep on firing and there's a lull in the waves of troops.

The sky is darkening, clouds gathering and crashing together. Water droplets start to fall on us and I look up as lightning cuts across the sky, blinding me. It's closer than I've ever been to that much electricity. My hair stands up and then thunder booms, making my ears ring. Through the flashes in my vision I see Crayton running towards us, supporting Hector. "We need to get to Marina!" He shouts.

There's a half-second reprieve from the storm before it returns in full force, pounding us with rain. The dark clouds block any light from reaching the ground. The progression of this is unnatural. What is this? Can the Mogadorians create freaking storms?

We start running around the lake, following the same route that Marina and Ella went. She sees us coming and drops her chest, reaching for Hector. "We need to get to the dam," Crayton says, refilling his guns quickly.

I watch as Marina heals the man and drops her chest in his arms. I call her name and motion towards Adelina. Without hesitation, she comes and lays her hands over the wound. Soon Adelina is standing up.

The wind suddenly picks up, gale force, making our clothes ripple. A brilliant bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, leaving a metallic taste in the air. The clouds spread like a wave, then recede, forming a circular shape. With a jolt I realize it's a huge eye. Everyone, even the Mogs, have stopped, mesmerized.

The wind kicks up again, and the dark clouds and the thunder and lightning come with it, slow at first, but quickly gaining speed, heading our way. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before. All any of us can do is watch the thick clouds rolling towards us with a deep growl.

"Go!" Crayton yells, and spins, firing. We jump into motion, running over a slight hill and then into a small valley. The dam comes into view, nestled between two mountains. It's too far to reach during this chase, and Crayton must realize that, because he yells, "Into the water!"

Marina supports Hector and they swim in, following Ella and Crayton. Adelina looks at me questioningly, and I shake my head, pushing her toward the water. After a few seconds of hesitation, she goes in, wading awkwardly after her garde.

When the first Mogadorian appears, stumbling through the storm blindly, I rush him, shouldering him to the ground before wrestling his blaster from him. It goes off, melting a nearby tree in half. I swing wildly at his head, knocking him unconscious. I stand up and shoot him, breathing heavily. The tree falls, shaking the ground.

In the distance, the clouds dissipate, becoming a hundred lines of dusty gray smoke. The moment the Mogs can see me standing there alone, they charge, dozens strong with a huge group of krauls yipping at their heels.

Fear courses through me at the sight, so strong I almost freeze. I have to remind myself that I'm not defenseless anymore. I'm a garde with legacies. I can and will fight. Taking aim, I pick off the first few Mogs at the front of the group. With them all bearing down on me, I soon realize the gun won't be enough. So I drop it and head into the fray swinging.

"She's one of us!" I hear a voice yell, but I'm in the zone, crushing and tearing through Mogs, throwing them through the air. A kraul snarls loudly and jumps at me. I don't bother trying to dodge, instead waiting for it to fall towards me before grabbing it by the neck in the air. I whip it down behind me, and then in front, grabbing it with both hands. It scratches me and bites down on my chin, succeeding only in breaking it's teeth. I snap its neck and toss it back at the mogs before it completely disintegrates.

With wonder, I see the Mogs are dying seemingly from nothing. One of them wielding a sword swings for me and gets stopped in mid air. A beautiful girl with raven hair appears, holding the Mog's wrists. She easily snaps them with a nauseating crack and kicks him in the stomach. He gets thrown back and she picks up a fallen blaster, shooting him.

"What number are you?" She asks, facing away.

"Three." I answer.

"I'm number six," She says before vanishing.

In the heat of the fight, I see her standing on top of an armored humvee, shooting with a blaster. She spins her borrowed sword into the crowd, taking down three at once, and grabs the large gun fixed to the top of the humvee. She begins mowing down Mogs and krauls. A second humvee explodes next to me.

There are only twenty or thirty soldiers left. Maybe four krauls. Number Six holds one hand over her head while the gun in the other shoots and destroys the Humvees along the shore. Dark clouds form over the mountains and bolts of lightning crack and split the ground near her. The Mogadorians show fear for the first time, and I watch a few drop their weapons and run towards the woods.

Marina exits the water and grabs two cannons, shooting the remaining soldiers. Crayton comes out after her and she tosses him a cannon. Together, they dispose of the retreating soldiers quickly.

I can't keep my eyes off of Number Six. Her strength is mesmerizing. The blue pendant bounces around as the gun in her one hand cuts down more and more soldiers. She rotates to her left and blows a kraul into bits, and then she rotates to her right and takes out several more Mogadorians with a bolt of lightning.

The valley is bright and smoky. A soldier races me past towards the woods, and I lunge, wrapping my arms around his neck and snapping it unceremoniously. As he drops, I realize he was the last one. I look around and realize that all of us are here. With everything that has happened in the past half hour, that's a pleasant surprise.

I should've known that we wouldn't get off that easy.

"Pikens!" Ella yells.

Four of the horned monsters run down the mountainside at full speed. Silver firs fly toward them like rockets. Four hit the lead one and it falls backwards into the path of the other three, and it's crushed and killed in the stampede.

Six spins the gun on the humvee and blows out the knees of the one on the left. It crashes down and is quickly stomped over. The remaining two split up, coming at us from both sides.

The clouds roar when Number Six stands, and an enormous bolt of lightning crashes into one of the pikens, cutting off its arm. It bellows and falls to its knees, but quickly regains its balance and charges ahead with blood spurting from its side. The other piken dodges Crayton's fire and rushes in from the other direction. We all run towards Six, but Héctor is too slow with the Chest in his arms. The piken closes in, and before I can help, the one-armed monster reaches down and snatches Héctor and Marina's Chest in its fist. Before any of us can react, the one on the other side smacks Adelina into the hillside with deadly force. I can only watch, eyes wide, as she flies from where she was standing next to me.

Aiming her gun at the piken, Six pulls the trigger, filling it's head with lead. It falls back and starts to disintegrate. I hear Marina scream, a wordless howl of anguish, as she sees Adelina's broken body. The temperature drops and ice protrudes from her hands, piercing the one-armed piken through the heart. It slumps.

Marina runs to Adelina and lays her hands all over her neck, her legs, her arms, her broken and bleeding body. But I can tell from her franticness that it's not working.

Her Cepan is gone.

Marina turns away and envelops Ella in a hug, sobbing openly into her shoulder. Staring at Adelina's body, I blink tears away as memories of my own Cepan's body surfaces, forgotten on the floor of a hut thousands of miles away.

"Marina, your chest," Crayton says, gently touching her shoulder. He keeps on a swivel, watching for any other Mogadorians. Marina pulls away from Ella, tears streaking through the dust on her face. She nods and goes to the water, emerging a minute later with her chest.

We bury Adelina and Hector at the bottom of the dam, where the grass meets the white concrete. "Hector once told me that the key to change is letting go of fear," Marina says, looking into our eyes. "I don't know if I've let go of fear just yet, but the change is happening. It's definitely happening. And I can only hope that you all can help me through it."

"We're a team," Ella says. "Of course we will."

After we say our goodbyes, we climb the dam's ladder. We stand on top of the dam, peering down into the valley and the lake. On the other side of the dam is a series of locks holding back a much larger lake.

Marina turns to Six and ask, "Do you know a John Smith in Ohio? Is he one of us?"

Her smile is wide. "I do know John. He's Number Four."

I'm silent, contemplating our future and number four. It's happening, just like my cepan told me it would, and I held in my heart all these years. We're growing strong and coming together.

Ella takes my hand. I look over and see she's holding Marina's hand, and she in turn is holding Six's. We stand there letting the mountain breeze whip our hair around our faces. Ella looks over at Six and asks, "Can we go to America?"

"The charm is broken. I don't see why we can't all be together now." Six shrugs, turning back to the lake below.

Crayton joins us. "I hate to say this, but it's the calm before the storm. We're winning far too many battles for them to ease up now. You're getting too strong for them, and they'll be throwing everything they have at you. No more small armies with a few hundred soldiers and a couple of clumsy beasts. Their ruler will be here soon. Setrákus Ra."

"Who?" I ask.

"Setrákus Ra." Crayton shakes his head. "And I don't think we're ready for him."

"Then it's settled," Marina says. "We're going to Ohio to be with John Smith."

"West Virginia, actually. In exactly two weeks," Six says.

"I'm not sure that's wise just yet." Crayton begins walking away. "We need to gather the others first."

Six walks after him. "That sounds good and all, but I have no idea where they are."

"I do," Crayton says, not turning around. "I also know where our Chimæras are. If Setrákus Ra thinks this is going to be easy, he's got another thing coming."

We follow him, taking the first of many steps down the opposite side of the dam. I say, "I need to get my chest before we go find the others."

"Okay," Crayton says.

* * *

The Mogadorian landed at the end of the hallway, screaming before dissolving from an unseen wound. Barely a glance was spared to their fallen comrade before others ran down the hallway, screaming in righteous anger.

The teenage boy standing in the hallway looked almost bored as he dispatched them. "You'd think they'd have learned something."

"That'd be like expecting fish to fly," the girl said, flashing a keycard over the scanner. It gave a high note and she grinned in satisfaction. Twisting the heavy doorknob, the metal door creaked open. Quickly, the pair slipped in and a green sheen replaced the door. The Mogadorians outside slammed against it and roared, beating it savagely.

"Oh my Lore," the girl said, staring at a monitor in shock.

"What?" the boy asked, spinning around to look over the girl's shoulder.

"There was a garde in Santa Teresa. More than one. Surviving scouts report there were…" she trailed off, shock quieting her voice. She backed away from the monitor slightly.

"Three." He finished, looking up. He wore a similar expression of shock. They've never been so close to the others. Just a few hours of driving away.

"This was a day ago, and the report says they escaped...they'll have gotten away. We can't find them now."

The monitor chimed and the boy leaned in, eyes wide. "No way."

The girl leaned in and they both read the popup: an alert of a garde sighting in India. They locked eyes, silently agreeing about what they would do next. She picked up a computer tower and it began to shake and glow purple. She threw it at the wall, moving towards the boy, and a transparent green sphere flickered over the two of them as the building exploded.


	13. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the long wait!**

* * *

"Where did you put my chest?" I hear Four shout.

"Under the kitchen sink," Nine calls back. Four walks through the doorway, making a beeline for the cabinet. I'm in the kitchen, trying to pass the time. "Wait!" Nine calls. "I made a-"

There's a clicking sound as Four pulls open the cabinet and a dozen sharpened sticks fly at his face. He flashes his hands up and manages to deflect them toward the walls and floor. One zips towards me and I let it pass through.

"-trap!" Nine finishes, jogging in. He slaps his knees and laughs at Four's startled expression. "So sorry, dude. I forgot to tell you."

Four waves his hands, pulling the sticks back, and makes them hover in the air, sharp ends pointed at Nine. "You don't _sound_ sorry."

Nine stares at the sticks and they simultaneously snap in half, then fourths, and eighths. Four lets them drop to the floor. "Hey, I really did forget," Nine shrugs, turning around. "Anyway, get your chest and get in here. We gotta jet."

Four glances at me and I shrug, following Nine into the living room. I go to where Cassie is leaning against the wall and stand beside her. Our heads are equal height like this. Our eyes meet for a second and she smiles. I smile back.

Though I wouldn't say this out loud, meeting Four, Five, and Nine has got me a little overwhelmed. Nine is so loud, cocky, so much stronger than me. Five is like him in that regard: strength like a superhero, though where Nine has the body to match, Five has the body of a comic villain goon: wide, bulging with muscle. Five is also unlike Nine in that he doesn't speak often.

Of the three, Four seems the most approachable, but I haven't spoken to him at all. I guess it'll take some getting used to, Cassie not being the only garde around. Her presence is familiar and comforting.

I don't think it's just that, though. It almost seems too easy. The five of us here, along with Number Six that Four was apparently with before her going off to Spain to find who must be Number Seven, makes all seven of us. I expected more trouble after the years of running and hiding. Of course we still have to meet up with Six and Seven, but then we'll all be together.

And then there's the matter of the four loralite pendants around Setrakus Ra's neck that's troubling me. There are only two of us dead. Each of us brought only one loralite pendant. So where did Setrakus get two extra pendants? There are obviously things we still don't know.

Nine pulls the strand of green stones from his chest and tosses them down. They hover above the floor and suck in the splintered wood and pieces glass that cover the floor. He snaps his fingers and they zip toward the window, unleashing the trapped items, breaking the window. "Check that one off," Nine laughs.

Four opens his chest, staring down with a frozen expression of nostalgia and regret for a few seconds before lifting a plain coffee can out of the chest and setting it on the floor. He sifts through his chest, picking up several items-a diamond dagger that wraps around his fist, an oblong waxy crystal. I crouch next to him, looking at the things in his chest.

"Maybe something in our chests can help us get through that force field," Four says, looking over at Nine.

"Would be nice, that's for sure," Nine says in a casual tone, his eyes focused on the purple pebble he is balancing on the back of his hand. It disappears.

"What's that?" I ask.

He turns over his hand and the pebble reappears on his palm. "I have no idea, but it would be a killer conversation starter with the ladies, don't you think?"

"That's like my phasing," I say, staring at the purple pebble curiously. Things in our chests emulate legacies? This opens a lot of possibilities. Suddenly I'm a lot more interested, and wish I had my chest here instead of at the penthouse. And Mareese, of course.

Five opens his chest and pulls a black flute out. He spins it deftly in his fingers and attempts to blow, but no notes come out. He shrugs, not the least bit frustrated, and drops it back in. He rummages through more things that I can't see.

Four slides a red bracelet from his chest over his hand. He waves his arm around. Nothing happens.

"Maybe you should try licking it?" Nine laughs, watching.

'I'll try anything,' He mutters, frustrated. Four pulls open the bag and drop the stones into his hand and shows them to Nine. I recognize them as the marbles from Cassie's chest. "Are these what you're looking for to find the others? This is how we figured out another member of the Garde was in Spain." Four explains.

"I've never seen those before. What do they do?"

Four blows softly on the stones and they glow, coming to life. Bernie Kosar, the beagle, barks at the sight of the orbs hovering over his palm. They have become planets and orbit the sun. The orbs once again speed up and brighten.

Five, Nine, and Cassie come closer and we watch as the planets collide one by one with the sun until there is just a large single ball in front of us. The new globe rotates on its axis and flashes a light so bright we have to shield our eyes. Eventually, the globe dims and sections of its surface rise and recede until we're looking at a perfect replica of Earth.

The Earth rotates and we immediately see three pinpricks of pulsing light one on top of the other. Once we can orient ourselves, we see they are in West Virginia.

"There we are, I say.

The ball continues to rotate and we see there's another pulse of light in India; a fifth is in what looks to be the Philippines or Indonesia. I was never good at geography in the east.

'When I was showing Six and Sam our solar system a few days ago in the car, the same thing happened. It turned into a globe of the Earth. It was the first time it ever did that,' Four says.

'I'm confused,' Nine says. 'There are only five dots on this thing and there are supposed to be seven of us left.'

'Yeah, I'm not sure about that. When this happened before, a dot showed up in Spain,' Four says. 'Then the globe went all fuzzy and we heard someone who sounded panicked yelling the name Adelina. And then a boy that said hello. We assumed they were other members of the Garde. That's when Six decided to go to Spain, to try to find the girl."

"I think that was us," Cassie says. "We heard that too, in Chicago, through my macrocosm."

"And I said hello through my crystal," I finish.

"I figured this was how you planned to contact the others, but I guess not if you've never seen it before." Four says to Nine.

Nine's eyes go wide. "Wait. Oh my God, man. I haven't seen this thing before, but I think Sandor told me about it. To be honest, when we opened my Chest the first time, the silver staff and the yellow porcupine ball were so amazing I only half listened to anything he said after. But now I remember, he told me some of us had a red crystal-which I do, and that's what I thought I'd use to communicate with the others-and some of us have the solar system."

"I don't get it." Four says, an eager but perplexed look crossing his face.

Nine turns to his Chest, grabs the glowing red crystal, slams the lid of his Chest, and turns back to us. I glance at the solar system and gasp. One of the blue dots in West Virginia has disappeared.

"Whoa, hold on. Open up your Chest again. I want to see something." Four says.

Nine obeys and a third blue dot appears on the globe in West Virginia.

"Okay. Now, close it."

He closes it and the dot disappears again. 'This is boring,' he says. When Nine speaks, the Earth globe grows fuzzy and vibrates with a half-second delay of his voice. 'Wait, what was that? Why is my voice echoing?' The Earth vibrates again.

'This is not boring. This is incredible,' Cassie says, catching on. 'The reason we don't see all seven of the Garde members on the globe is because the orb only reveals the members of the Garde who have their Chests open at that exact moment. Watch." She lifts the lid of Nine's Chest.

Nine whistles. 'Very cool, Four, very cool.' Half a second later we hear his voice through the globe again. Nine puts his crystal down, having figured it out.

"I think if you hold on to that red crystal, any of us with this macrocosm Earth can hear you."

"If half of us have a crystal, and the other half have the power to get this big glowing globe up and running, then-"

'The only way for us to actually communicate back and forth would be if a couple of us teamed up first,"I interrupt.

"Well, now that we're together, maybe we should try to talk to Six and Seven. You know, in case their macrocosms are going," Cassie says.

Nine grabs the red crystal and holds it near his mouth like a microphone. 'Hello? Testing one, two, three.' He clears his throat. 'Okay, if you're out there standing in front of a glowing ball, listen up. Three, Four, Five, Eight, and Nine are together and we're ready to meet up with you. We want to train and end all this bullshit and get back to Lorien. Pronto. We're not going to say exactly where we are in case any Mogs are listening in, but if you have your macrocosm going you'll see three dots together, and they are, uh, us. So, um . . .' Nine looks at us and shrugs his shoulders. 'That is all. Over and out and stuff.'

Four interjects, "Wait. Say we're about to get out of here and for them to make their way to the United States. That's where Setrákus Ra, the Mogadorian leader, is. Tell them we're going after him and we're going to rescue our friends as soon as we can."

The Earth buzzes to life with Nine's echoing voice. "Everyone come to America ASAP. Setrákus Ra has shown his ugly face over here and we're aiming to smash it in and take him down real soon. We'll send out another message tomorrow. Stay tuned."

Nine drops the red crystal back into his Chest, looking way too pleased with himself, then kind of embarrassed that he just talked into a ball. The Earth grows fuzzy again. Then there's the sound of an explosion, followed by a voice. It's the same girl I heard before. She's yelling. "Six! You okay?"

We hear a scream and two more explosions rock the fuzzy edges of the globe. Four grabs Nine's crystal out of his chest. "Six!' He yells. 'It's me, John! Can you hear me?"

There's no response. We hear the faint sounds of the blades of a helicopter before the globe goes silent again and the Earth's edges grow solid. The pulsing light in India is now gone. Suddenly, the globe shrinks and reforms into the seven orbs, each of which falls to the ground.

'That did not sound good,' Nine says, scooping up the stones. He drops them back into my Chest, and takes his crystal from Four, who's standing frozen. "Six is the chick who gave you the map to the mountain? The one who abandoned you and your boy to jet off to Spain?" Nine asks.

"That's her," Four says, kicking his Chest shut, fists clenched tight. He tries to remove the bracelet from his wrist. "Something's going on with this thing. I think something may be wrong with it."

Nine shuts his Chest and reaches over. 'The bracelet?' As soon as he touches it he rips his hand away. "Damn! It zapped me!"

"Well, what do I do?" He tries snapping his arm out. I reach for his wrist. "Let me try."

Bernie Kosar trots over to smell the bracelet, but stops midstride and jerks his head up to stare at the front door. His ears rise and the fur on his back bristles.

Nine and Four look at each other and then us and start to slowly back into the room, away from the door. We'd been so engrossed in everything in the Chests, and in hearing the voice through the globe, that we'd let our guard down, and weren't paying attention to our surroundings.

Suddenly, the door is blown off its hinges. Smoke bombs fly through the windows sending glass shards everywhere. Debris strikes Cassie on the side of her head and I watch her eyes roll back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Five collapse. I fall to my knees.


	14. Chapter 13

**Wow, it's been a while. The Other Ones has even passed a thousand views in my absence, which is just crazy to me! It makes me really happy. I'm excited about where this story will go.** **Summer's out and new chapters should start coming soon. Thanks for your patience, enjoy!**

* * *

The smoke makes it hard to see. On my knees, I reach toward Cassie. Men wearing gas masks fill the room. One of them pulls my arms back and handcuffs me, pulling me to my feet. He kicks my legs, forcing me to my knees. I watch as Four gets handcuffed. A familiar green light hits Nine, making him fall. Mogadorian weapons.

Soldiers pull Cassie and Five's limp bodies up roughly and handcuff them. "Put them in the truck," a woman with red hair says as she enters. Two soldiers pull them out. I start to struggle, getting angry.

"Daniel, wait," I hear Four say. We make eye contact and he tilts his head forward. I reluctantly nod, unsure of what he's playing at, but I know I can't take all of them by myself. He slightly nods back and then turns his gaze towards a man with white hair and a twisted nose. "What do you want with us?" He asks.

He laughs and looks over at the woman. "What do we want, Special Agent Walker?"

"For starters, I want to know who your friends are over there," she says, pointing the tube back at Nine and then at me.

"I don't know this kid," Nine says. He blows his hair out of his face and offers a smile. "I just stopped by to sell him a vacuum cleaner. The place looked like a dump and I thought he could use it."

The man circles over to Nine. "Is that what you have in these fancy chests here? Vacuum cleaners?" He nods to one of the other officers and says, "Let's have a look at these vacuum cleaners, shall we? I may be interested in one myself."

"Be my guest." Nine's smile is menacing. "I'm having a sale. Three for the price of four."

One of the soldiers slaps a pair of handcuffs on Nine and he quickly sits up. I can see the handcuffs are already broken. He's just waiting for the right time to attack. I see Four covertly do the same. As stealthily as I can, I tense my arms and grab the chain, pulling it until one of the links snaps. I keep my hands clasped behind me. The soldier's grip on my shoulders is uncomfortably tight.

A bunch of the men have surrounded Nine's Chest. One of them is slamming the butt of his rifle over and over on the lock holding it closed, but it doesn't have any effect. He smashes it a few more times anyway, clearly frustrated.

"How about this." Special Agent Walker pulls out a revolver. She fires at the lock and the bullet ricochets around the room, barely missing another officer's leg.

The broken-nose man grabs Nine by the back of his neck, pulls him to his feet, then shoves him forward. Nine can't maintain the ruse of his handcuffs and braces his fall, landing on his hands and knees. Realizing Nine's hands are now unrestrained, the man yells over his shoulder, "Somebody get me some more handcuffs! We've got a broken pair over here!"

His chin tucked into his chest, Nine's whole body vibrates with laughter. He pops his legs out and does a pushup. Then he does another one. An officer kicks his right hand out from underneath him, but Nine doesn't miss a beat. He does another pushup with just his left hand. The officer kicks at his left hand, but Nine is too fast to let that knock him over. His right hand is down in a flash and his one-handed pushup shows off his perfect form. Four officers jump on him, each one holding a leg or arm, but Nine just keeps on laughing.

Four laughs too. I look at him with bewilderment. This would probably be funny to me, too, if I wasn't worried about Cassie. Four slowly pulls his hands from behind his back and puts them on the back of his hand, whistling casually. Special Agent Walker narrows her eyes and points the cannon at him. "Do you know what happens to kids like you in prison?" she asks.

"They escape? Like I did last time?" Four says innocently. Nine howls with laughter from his place under the pile.

The lead guy claps his hands to get the attention of the other men. "Okay! Let's get these guys out of here before our friends show up."

'"Who are your friends?" Four asks him, though I'm already pretty sure that for some reason the U.S. government and the Mogadorians are working together. That's the only explanation for why they'd be using Mog weapons against us. "Who don't you want to show up?"

"Shut up!" Special Agent Walker yells. She pulls out a cell phone and dials a number. "We're bringing him in, plus four more," she says into the phone. "Three Chests. No, but we'll get them open. See you soon."

"Who was that?" Four asks. She ignores him as she puts her phone away.

"Hey, buddy, I thought you wanted to buy a vacuum," Nine says to Four. "I really need this sale. My boss is going to kill me if I come home with a full box of Hoovers again."

They pull Nine to his feet. He stretches his back and smiles, like a cat smug and full of mouse. "It doesn't matter where you take us, there's no prison that can hold us. If you knew who we are, you wouldn't waste your time with this crap."

Agent Walker laughs. "We know who you are, and if you were as smart or as tough as you think you are, we would have never found you in the first place."

Soldiers pick up the Chests and walk out the front door. New handcuffs are slapped over our wrists. They use three pairs on Nine.

"You have _no_ idea what we're capable of," Nine says in a sickeningly sweet voice as they lead us through the front yard. "If I wanted to, I could kill you all in a matter of seconds. You're damn lucky I'm being such a good boy. For now."

* * *

 **Eight Months Ago**

 **Adamus Sutekh**

I watch the garde fight my father on the other side of the ravine. I'm tempted to cheer, but I don't want to distract him. One cheers next to me, pumping her arms. I share a grin with her. That's why I don't hear the footsteps from behind.

"Goodbye, Adamus," I hear Ivan hiss in a whisper. I twist as he shoves me and manage to grab his hand, pulling him off balance with me. We teeter on the edge before gravity wins out and we both fall towards the water below.

He grabs my shirt and punches me in midair, causing black spots to dance across my vision. I shake my head, trying to clear it, as we land with a smack in the water.

He's a few feet away from me. We're both disoriented. The landing was like a slap across my whole body. I have a few seconds before Ivan regains focus.

"Get up!" One yells, her face deadly serious.

I stagger to my feet and with a surge, half-fall, half-jump onto Ivan, who's straightening up. It's like hitting a brick wall. But in his state, I succeed in bringing him down again. I'm sitting on his back and land frantic punches to his back. I sling my arm around his thick neck and tighten my grip, trying to cut off his air supply.

He growls loudly and grabs my head, pulling my hair. A sound escapes my mouth. He rolls over, splashing water. He spits some out and elbows me in the stomach. I dry heave, doubling over. Unintentionally, my knee comes up and smacks his temple. His head moves two or three inches.

One cheers. I feel like curling up in the water and throwing up. Ivan pins my shoulder with one huge hand and punches my chest and side with his other fist.

"Ivanick!" I yell desperately. It slips out on accident. But Ivan stops, emotions battling on his face. His fist trembles in mid-air.

"You chose them, Adamus," He says. "How could you choose _them_ over us?"

I feel something coming over me, overriding my senses. It's One. My body moves without my permission. She hits him in the nose with a flat palm, snapping his head back. I see blood trickle down his lip.

He brings his fist down. It hits and I feel it numbly. One grabs his arm, twists over, and gets on her-my-hands and knees so that Ivanick is laying on my back.. She tightens, curves upwards, and pulls him over. His head strikes a rock as he lands in front of us.

One gives me back control. Sensation rushes back. I'm breathing hard as I crouch down next to Ivanick's prone body. "I'm sorry, Ivanick." I say, and I am really am sorry, even though I'm sure he can't hear me. The hate I feel at the hate he's shown toward the Loric is mixed with shock at my own actions. Fighting my own brother. But Ivanick is a killer. He killed Two in front of me, and I know that while I was in a coma he killed other Loric.

I grab a nearby rock. It's wet from the water, but heavy enough that it didn't get washed away in this shallow part of the river. It fits in my hand like a baseball. Shivering from the water, my fingers curled around it, I stare at Ivanick's face. Peaceful in his sleep. I suddenly drop the rock.

I don't know, if I come face to face with him again, that I'll be able to do what needs to be done. I don't have the courage, or perhaps cold-bloodedness, to do it now. I can't even beat him on my own.

I drag him to the river shore next to the body of my father. He weighs a lot. I pause for a second, facing away from the two of them, before turning back. I bend down over my father's body and watch his chest rise and fall shallowly. I unclip the communicator from his belt and toss it into the rushing water, watching it get carried downstream.

My body hurts all over as I start the long walk out of the ravine.

There's no going back from this. In a few hours or days if I'm lucky, my brother and the General will be out of the ravine and back with Mogadorian civilization. Will the General speak of my betrayal, or will the shame be enough to keep him quiet? I don't know him well enough to confidently predict what he will do. Not enough to stake my life on it.

Plan. I need a plan.

"Isn't it obvious?" One says, appearing. A little of her snark has come back, but she's still more serious than she usually is. "Find the others."

Of course. Alone, I'm nothing against the Mogadorians. It's the Loric, the garde, that are the real warriors. But how am I going to find them?

The mogs. It would be a risk, but if I can get into their systems, I can find out what we-what _they_ know about the location of the garde. There's no way into their systems here-we only have the computer on the aircraft, and I'd have to go through another Mog, someone on the other side, to get the information I want. No, that's too suspicious. It makes the most sense to go into a Mog base and use the terminals myself.

"Ashwood Estates," One speaks up. "You live there, it won't be suspicious."

My home.


	15. Chapter 14

I was getting tired of finding nothing.

Nothing.

No matter where I looked, what I searched, or who I asked, I could never find out more about the mall incident. It was like the two teenagers fighting there had vanished into the void. Every news article was the same: it mentioned the fighting, the strange witness accounts of what had happened(which had to be faulty, every article also said), and nothing more. No mention of who the fighters were, or what had led to it.

I _did_ find a little something. The strange piles of ash left behind at the scene matched with incident that had happened around the same time: an apparent terrorist attack at a high school in Ohio orchestrated by a man and his son. Neither had been seen since. The piles of ash were at both places.

And that was all I could find. I had emailed article writers and reporters months ago with no responses. The only two outcomes I can come up with on my own was that they were either running from someone-maybe many someones-or they had been caught. Either way, I couldn't do anything without knowing more. And there was no way of knowing more.

It was training with grandpa one day, going through hand-to-hand drills, that I learned more. I stopped to take a sip of water from her bottle and Grandpa said, "I found something about your powers."

"What?" I said, lowering the bottle from her lips. I stared at him.

"It's something in our family. I was thinking about it a few days ago and I remembered something my mother told me. Her mother-your great-great-grandmother-she could...do things."

"Things like me?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. I set her water bottle down and leaned against the wall, still looking at Grandpa.

"Not exactly like you, but yes." He answered. "So I called a few of our cousins. They knew all about it."

I leaned forward. "What do you mean, they knew?"

"Everything." He said. "Or, at least, they knew about my grandmother. They also knew about something else. A place."

"Where?" I asked, eager to know more.

"Get your shoes on," He said, walking to the door.

Despite my pestering, he doesn't say more on the way over to my cousin's house. We stop outside and he walks up. The door opens before he knocks. It's Clara, my cousin's daughter, that opens the door. She grins at my grandpa and hugs his leg, squealing.

"Hi, Clara!" Grandpa says, bending down to pat her back. Jackson appears behind her and picks her up. His face is stony as he glances from Grandpa from me. Something changes in his gaze as he looks at me.

"It's her?" He asks Grandpa.

Grandpa nods.

"David!" Jackson calls. "Come watch Clara! I'm going out."

David, Jackson's son, comes out of his room. He's five or six years younger than me. He smiles shyly at me, says "Come on, Clara," and she scampers off.

Jackson steps out, grabbing his keys from a table just inside, and pulls the door shut. He locks it and walks to his car. "Follow me in your car."

I get in with Grandpa and we follow Jackson's car. We're driving for at least an hour on the highway before exiting. For a few minutes there's woods on both sides of the small road. Then we pull off the road onto a barely noticeable dirt path carved through the trees. We trundle along for another twenty or thirty minutes before Jackson finally stops. I watch the sunset go through its colors.

Throughout the whole ride I could sense a quiet excitement from Grandpa. When I asked where we were going, he said "Jackson told me about a place my grandma had built. A place for her, for people like you." He doesn't say anything more.

I bound out of the car, eager to get in there. Jackson leads us into the woods for a few minutes until we reach a circular metal thing placed in the dirt between two trees. It's raised a few inches, with a slightly smaller circle inside the rim.

It's a door.

He kneels down beside the door and inserts a skeleton key into a lock that I didn't notice before. It turns with obvious effort and then the inner circle of the door pops up, revealing some finger holds carved into the metal. He and Grandpa each grab a few and pull up, straining. It must be a lot heavier than it looks. I grab it with my mind and help them prop it up. It leans back at a slightly obtuse angle. I look into the hole left behind. It's a ladder leading into darkness.

"After you," Jackson says, gesturing.

I glance at Grandpa, take a breath, and grab hold of the ladder to lower myself. The cold metal bars are so smooth that I nearly fall a few times. It takes about a minute of descending before I reach the bottom of wherever here is. A fist of nerves has planted itself in my stomach.

Grandpa plops down next to me. I look up the ladder and see nothing. Jackson must have closed the door. It's impossible to judge how long the ladder is. I only know Jackson is there from him clanging on the ladder steps.

Jackson's boots clap as they hit the floor. It's pure darkness down here. I can't even see my hand waving six inches from my face.

I hear an industrial lever clank and then lights snap on.

* * *

They put the three of us in plexiglass cages. Nine and Four are in the corners near the cabin. I'm on the same side as Nine, with four or five feet between our cages. We're strapped down to cold metal chairs, leather straps over our arms and foreheads. Cuffs and shackles keep our limbs from moving.

I can see in the corner of my vision where Five and Cassie are handcuffed to metal benches. They're still knocked out.

The agents sit on the metal benches beside them. The red-haired woman has one foot each on a chest, a cannon across her lap. I've lost track of which chest is mine. They look the same. A third one is tucked under the feet of the male agent. A man with a shotgun sits on a smaller bench between Nine and Four's cages.

Five begins to stir and the thick-set man points his Mogadorian cannon at him. I press forward, blue sparks escaping my finger tips. I don't know Five very well, but I won't let any garde get hurt.

"Steady, Daniel," Four says, looking at me. I switch my gaze to him and he jerks his head at Nine. Nine stares at me and I feel strangely left out, like I've missed something. Although I could free myself in an instant, I don't because Four and Nine haven't. Clearly they're playing at something.

The agent settles for smacking Five in the head with the cannon. Five settles.

The other person, Agent Walker, is on the phone. I can't hear what she's saying.

"Hey, guys!" Nine shouts. "You ready to roll out of here? I don't know about you, but I'm getting bored."

The man swivels his cannon at him. "Shut up!"

Agent Walker shuts her phone and sighs, pinching her nose. Then she sits up straight and knocks on the metal truck wall. The truck starts moving. She stands up and walks towards Nine and Four's cages, carrying the cannon above her head and stops facing Four's cage.

"How did you find us?" Four asks, watching her. His head is pulled back like ours. From my position I can only see slits where his eyes are.

"You know how," She responds.

"Hey!" Nine shouts. "I wasn't kidding about being bored. I don't feel like playing nice anymore. You can tell us everything right now, or I can break out of here and kick your asses."

The man rises from the bench. I notice that his nose is crooked, like it's been broken. He points his cannon directly at Nine. "You're in no position to threaten us, kid."

"Whatever you're planning, I promise, I've been through worse," Nine says.

"I know exactly where you were before. Don't you get it? We know." He sounds annoyed with Nine's bravado.

"Agent Purdy," Walker says to him. "Lower your weapon. Now."

He lowers it and then it's tossed from his hands. It flies back, smacking the doors. It falls with a clang. That wasn't me.

Just then, we take a turn, and Purdy stumbles. His shoulder hits Four's cage. From his struggling, I can tell he's pinned.

"Son of a…"

"Don't you know you should always wear a seatbelt, Agent Purdy?" Nine laughs.

"However you're doing this, you better stop," Purdy warns.

I glance at Cassie, still knocked out. We seem to be in control of this situation. We have powers that they know nothing about.

Four leans forward, effortlessly snapping the leather band over his forehead. "Do you know where Sam Goode is?"

"We have Sam." Agent Walker responds casually, pointing her cannon at Four.

I remember Sam, the human that was with Four when they invaded the mountain. If these human agents have him, that can only they're working with the Mogadorians. I curse internally.

Agent Purdy crashes backward, landing hard in the aisle. I can see the emotions on Four's face, shock, worry, and anger battling it out. I can tell that he has a close bond to Sam. He focuses on Walker and alarm enters his face.

"If you're lucky, _John Smith,_ or whatever your name is, we'll show you how we use our interrogation techniques on Sam. But if you're _really_ lucky, we'll show you a video of that little blonde girlfriend of yours. What's her name again?" I can tell she's grinning.

"Oooooohhhhhh, shit," Nine says, the smile in his voice. "Now you've gone and done it."

"Sarah," Four whispers. "I know she's working with you. What did you tell her to turn her against me?"

Purdy grabs his cannon and sits back on the bench, kicking his legs up on a chest. "Are you kidding me? That girl wouldn't tell us a thing. She's _in love_."

"Where is she?" Four demands, anger controlling his features.

"Far, far away." Walker says.

"Who cares?" Nine yells. "Big picture, dude, big picture! She's not in it! Neither is Sam!"

"Nine," Four says, switching his focus. "You ready to get out of here?"

"God, yes. Been ready forever. I need to pee."

Walker isn't sure where to point her cannon and backs up, moving it between them.

"If they move, shoot anything but a vital organ!" Purdy tells the guard sitting between Nine and Four's cages. He stands shoulder to shoulder with Walker. A cockroach crawls on Four's cage.

"Hey, Nine?"

"I'm already on three, my man," Nine says to Four. Walker yells at them to shut up.

Her shouting rouses Five. The large garde opens his eyes and tries to sit up, finding himself handcuffed. Purdy sees this out of the corner of his eye and turns around, aiming his cannon at him.

I've had enough.

 **Three's POV**

 **An airport in Spain**

I drop down across from the three girls, the seat creaking under me. They've taken the window seats, with Six seated beside the actual window. Ella glances at me across the small aisle. I smile and she smiles shyly back before looking at Marina. She takes her hand.

Crayton told us about Ella on the way to the airport. She's apparently Number Ten, the last and youngest of us. They escaped Lorien on a second ship when she was just a baby. She's what's called an Aeternus, someone born with the ability to change ages. He says that on the second ship, there was also a herd of Chimaera, that shapeshifting animals that lived all over Lorien.

Crayton was honest, telling us that he wasn't her official Cepan. Official or not, he seems to have taken his role seriously. His knowledge of the world and current events is incredible. He says he will do anything to defeat the Mogadorians. I believe him. On the battlefield yesterday, he proved himself a warrior, a worthy ally.

It's been over a decade since I was on a plane. Kentra and I, after arriving on Earth, initially settled in the middle of America. Soon after, we took a plane to Kenya. I remember the feeling as we lifted into the air. It was similar to our journey across space, but the view didn't compare.

Kentra. It's been months and the hurt is still there. If only I had been more alert, more ready. I could have saved him. I know he would've wanted me to get away, but I was mad at myself for a long time. I know Marina must be feeling the same. I hope having us with her will help her.

According to Crayton, Setrakus Ra can only be beaten by Pittacus Lore, the leader and most powerful of the Loric Elders. That was slightly panic-inducing, since he was dead. Then Crayton followed that with "You garde are destined to grow into the roles of the Elders. One of you will receive the powers of Pittacus."

Crayton thinks he's found him-the garde that can kill Setrákus Ra.

"I've read about a boy in India who seems to have extraordinary powers. He lives high up in the mountains. Some believe him to be the god Vishnu reincarnated. Others believe him to be an alien imposter with the power to change his form."

"Like me, Papa?" Ella had asked.

"He's not shifting ages, Ella. He's shifting forms. The more I read about him, the more I believe he is a garde, and that he may be the one to possess all the Legacies, the one to kill Setrakus Ra."

"You said yourself, you plant stories on the internet," Six challenged. "Rumors meant to mislead. How do you know this isn't a trap?"

"I'm the master of misinformation, Six," Clayton had replied. "I understand your concern, but trust me, this is no plant. All the signs point to this boy being in India. He hasn't been running. He hasn't been hiding. He's just _being,_ and he appears to be very powerful. If he is one of us, we need to reach him before the Mogadorians."

Sitting on the plane, Crayton's words echoing in my ears, I look at Six and Marina. I know both of them wanted to return to America, to Number Four-John Smith. But really, if this boy in India is Pittacus Lore, he _must_ be more important than any of us.

 **An airport in Spain, four rows back**

Five leans back against the seat, bumping Nine's shoulder. She smirks at him. "Definitely them."

He returns the bump, grinning. "Yeah, I hope so. It would be a long trip for nothing."

A slight frown creases her lips. "About that. Why would they just up and go to India of all places?"

"Who knows," Nine says, getting closer, "We're a strange bunch," he whispers conspiratorially.

She rolls her eyes and elbows him in the side, grinning. He lets out an exaggerated burst of air and falls back, grasping the point of impact as if she stabbed him. She shakes her head and glances at the two of them visible in the aisle ahead. Soon enough the plane has lifted off.


End file.
